
Impulse is thoughtless
The body is propelled to do
To love, to eat, to fuck
How can I allow myself to be led
By what I don’t know I want
By a trust for animal instinct over logic
By a willingness to snap the pattern by its rigid spine
Structure can create a garden
Walls of green lace freckled with peonies
Structure can create a cage
Metal pillars and a cold aluminum floor
Spontaneity is an open field of no nation
Where instinct is pulled by
The Eastern wind
The North star
The Southern cape
Where in this moment a dragonfly perches
On a rock’s turtled head without choice
Unaware of it’s whirling existence
Where in this moment an upper caste brahman
Looks into the brown eyes of a paravan
And all the rules drop dead
Where in this moment the business man
Stops to speak to the lonely beggar
Spares some change and time
In the now there’s no script to play
In the now the agenda is scrapped
In the now there’s no rehearsal
Step off the tight rope of should’s
Fall into the warm blooded pulse of the stream
The fine fertile soil of the forest
The snow dusted memory of the mountain
The land that knows more than it calculates
The people who love despite fear
The risky self that walks off the line
And is better for it
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