Silver web plumbing

From intuition

To idea

To desire

To action

Runs the silver thread we continuously weave

We have grown tall enough to reach novel treasures in the subtle

And to bring them down to earth

These treasures have helped us grow

Thrive

Flourish in phenomenal abundance

We have learned to worship these treasures

And build more and more of them,

And to build them temples, altars, within and without us

Everywhere we expand

Yet unaware growth can harm the web

Cancer is merely growth left unaware

And wears our forest down

We the nanomachines of a visible grey goo

Awareness, energy leaks somewhere in the pathway

From the subtle to the earth

My person notices leaks in our emotions

Cracks and gaps and blockages and bursts

Patched with uneven scotch tape and held together with rotting strings

Old buckets collecting the leaking fluid

Even a drain built underneath them

To not think about it anymore

Laying sizeable energy to waste

Draining our cycling bloodflow

We leave them in the basement

Behind that old unused door we probably misplaced the key to

The path down there smelly, slippery, and riddled with cobwebs

We don't like to go down there

Because it's icky and smelly and slimy and pests have moved in

And we'd really rather not

See the unfinished business we left down there

Because it can hurt

To see those unwanted innards

And remember when they were damaged by other flows

And we did not know how to fix them and take care of them

When we were told to never go down there because it's

Scary or unnecessary or just too noisy

And we also, like our formers,

Learned to hide the door and misplace the key

So we do what we can and we move on

If the energy loss is 70%, perhaps we can just increase the flow by about 3x and we can still be fine

Unquenchable greed

Or zeal

Or maybe we can just patch the flow from mind to earth directly

And live in sterile dispassion

The logical bypass

That discards the fluff of the unseen

Of the unproven, the unmeasured

Or we pay someone sometimes to

Guide us to empty the buckets and patch the pipes and unclog the drain

And the flow gets a little better

Yet only we have our own instruction manual

Untranslatable

That can heal our channels

Feel each leak and trace it

Test each valve, clean it, calibrate it

Properly weld or replace each pipe

Scrub our moldy walls

Untie those strings, unstick that tape, and remove those buckets

That are now in the way

Of our pipeline's unique healthy flow

Yes, it takes time and energy

As it does to learn the how and habit to maintain a car engine

But a well-maintained car may drive well a century

While one unwittingly used may break down months later when

It ran out of the oil we didn't know it needed

Although yay for electric cars

If we do not clean

We do what we can and we move on

Ignoring the refined potential we embody

That offers us a rainbow spectrum of feelings

To know our true desires and to feel the slightest

And the softest

And the loudest

Of the emotions in us

And around us

And if we ignore them, we do not feel the pain in us

And we do not feel the pain around us

Of the old man, lonely walking on the street

His yells and disdains a convenient release of his own blockages

His unresolved pains tightly shut until the end

Of the tired corporate worker

Grinding in habitual momentum

In constant friction against his own desires

He does not trust or does not remember anymore

Of the pleasant wife and mother

Who stores her miscarriages in an old trunk, leaking with pain

Her adventurous dreams eternally pawned for a normalized life

Who seals the door of her fresh sexual desires

With the key of obligate monogamy and the wallpaper of shame

Of the self-sufficient male

Unwilling to recognize the gagged feminine within him

Who wants to be loved tenderly, taken care of, to share her tears and her pains

Her diva and her beauty

And we may then continue to

Flow and live in willing oblivion

Unaware of the leaking energy

Of our fresh desires

Of the gifts our pains offer

Of the dancefloor we have cluttered up

With sloppily accepted routines

Long now stale and unrevised

That continue to grow rampant

And reproduce, together with the unawareness and with the shame

And locks

Inherited

Accepted

Or if we find in us

The will to clean us

To know us

Fully

Truly

We may yet reconstitute the pipes

That flow through our beings

Redirect our energies to heal the pains

To feel our love

To share our love

To find our truth

And to continue exploring

This world, both the dense and the subtle

With awareness and curiosity

And with joy as we share

It