The Poetry of Presence

Symptoms are just
The Body’s protest
From living a Life
They’re not meant to live.
From playing a part
They’re not meant to play.
We have two ears to listen,
And yet it is not those we can hear it with.
For it is in the space between sound
Where our Body’s are heard.
When we slow down long enough
In order to truly Listen.
Our Intuition speaks,
But not with the words that we’re used to.
The language of the Body
Is learned in the poetry of Presence.
It’s understood in the Truth of tingles.
The pulsating of the Heart,
Or the Feelings found deep within our bellies.
Our Breath providing a better Connection
Than any computer wire ever could.
Our Body’s simply disconnected
From the Universal wi-fi,
Unable to pick up a clearer signal.
They’ve been bogged down by information overload,
Our nervous systems frayed and weighed down
By synthetic circuitry and fallacious programs;
A virus of ignorance and ego,
Not willing to admit
We aren’t as smart as we think we are.

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