Continuing to play with the convoluted evolution and exploration of the “This Is” subject
On the road of unlearning,
Learning of Is that is Not Is,
On the unpath to the White Citadel
Grey curved dresses shrunken called:
‘Turn back, turn,
Uncurve your wish to be unbeing,
Curl back into the being of my curve.’
Unheard they fade nothingness, a bigness
Big once blindly passed a littleness.
Self’s shepherd turned:
Turned not to grieve –
Grief would prove hypo-nature’s thesis –
Turned to shield and fold the pity fleshness,
Extend the root of born into unborn.
Each self shepherd’s self unselfed,
Each step unstepped,
Unnumbered self its numbers
Till all numbers numbered all,
And unself, numbered, self unnumbered,
Moved past its self and through the self
Of all that eye had cast, all selfs
From proton fire, fish fall, fowl fell, all flesh,
Through den, eyrie, fold, fen, flesh and unflesh,
All selfs of eye mirrored with all selfs of self.
And unbeing self all being is, is
Lion beyond, parchment, Sham beyond,
Self gathered, folded in from history,
Pregnant, flooded with all selfs,
Face the cosmic face, known, unknown,
Self’s ambition to achieve,
For self through selfish selfs has come,
Unfearing death, eternal births, to be one.