The State of "Four": Poetry

It is the touch,
Riding along the spinal column
To a brain released from thought,
Sensation riding high
With spirit,
Eyes closed to all things
Save this feeling,
This sensation,
This bliss

And in this moment,
We feel spiritual,
We are left unencumbered,
Naked
Exposed as who we are
Within the siren song
That only we alone can know

Could it be that God
Experiences all these things
Through us,
That we are Organic Intelligence,
Conscious of our own-selves,
Marveling at our surroundings
And changing things at will?

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