In the mastery of myself
I dwell, as I think,
in this reign where
there is no democracy,
unless I am choice itself,
instead of the chooser
because upon each act
there is biased thought,
a judgment that suits behavior,
a behavior that follows belief,
the belief of freedom
within a limited fan
of possibilities,
where…

Whatever I think
is already trapped
within the limits of concepts
and their definitions.

What is a belief
has not liberty
painted upon itself;
the entrapment of thought
is belief, and its result,
ideology.

The purest form of ideology
are concepts,
so subtle is this belief
that doubting
conceptualizations
might seem irrational,
unnatural, even inhuman,
thus we create what is real
through the illusion of thought,
acting as if there were nothing else
each time I believe I am who you are not.

Belief by itself has
no goodness or badness,
no greatness or shallowness,
itself as a concept it is
a mental representation of reality,
a way to master the impossible to control,
the greatness beyond ourselves,
the trees and its mansions,
the flowers and its fashions,
the teas and its satisfactions,
the powers and its interactions,
and in the contemplation
of those beliefs lies
the wisdom of love,
beyond the judgments of faith,
the contemplation
of each aspect of ourselves,
until ourselves becomes it all.

In the awareness of the other,
the other becomes oneself
as time evaporates
into the infinity of my love,
in being, love, and the wanting
to be the master disappears,
the struggle dissipates
as I lie submissive
to the experience,
aware of my thoughts,
contemplating their nature,
aware of my nature,
contemplating the experience
within and beyond
the concept of myself,
love as being,
not feeling,
love as wisdom,
not cognition,
love as experience,
not knowledge,
love as you,
love as me,
love as it all,
in contemplation of love,
experience aware of itself,
… love.