Venerated, treasured, and neglected.
Curses to the attractiveness,
Which has plagued my sex.

I should be appreciative.
I have had more ardor
And more nourishment than a
Tibetan Buddhist.

I raise my legs over my head,
Elevated in a yoga pose,
Levitating atop a mountain,
Seeing with a dove’s eye view
The forgivings of my fellow man,
With spiked chakra all in disarray.

The human unconditional condition
Is well-defined to me.
It is the essence of all that is or ever was,
From the petrified sea
To the rolling hills of a grandwoman’s curves.

What else can be a requirement
For passing through a phrase,
Passing through the mass of contextual meaning
To the light radiating from within?

I float like an astral being,
Running my fingers through every solid holographic strand,
Grasping at
Ideas and wondering why we’re
Not there yet—still,
Still in the stillness of all time simultaneously.

I wait to exhale
At the perfect pause of cyclic bliss.

I am the reincarnation of Ananda.