Fumbling Towards Enlightenment: Poetry

Working for an hour,
A minute, a moment
Trying to find the words
To convey the mess
I find myself in
The gears of my mind
are like Koontz's
One Door Away From Heaven,
Turning, Turning, turning
With the round and round
of All That Is
And it is love that
I've desired,

Secluded, sequestered,
Sensationalized here
in solitary dusk

Deluded, diminished,
Deconstructed in
eclipsed embrace

Complete Love
So minute, minimalist,
and magnanimous

In every Acquiescent
and attractive attribute:

My Afterthought Companion
For all these lovely words,
None of them capture
The essence of the thing
And just like that:
I am Fumbling Towards Enlightenment.

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