to live poetically ( ; )

I really want to capture this feeling.

Do you know this feeling?

Silly question to ask, I know, as I have not even given you the chance; the chance to read into this feeling I aim to describe to you. You must be guessing, predicting, foreseeing the path ahead: What lays within your pure imagination?

Do you see?

Tell me, what is it you see? Listen to the voice being played out in your mind's eye. Describe and take witness of it. I haven't given you much, but I would bet there lies dormant an entire jungle tethered to and fro, tangled within your precepts of time and space. I will try to dial it back a bit, off the surrealist route. To create a better sense as we near the end.

This marks the end of the path of this pass of nine letters. The Fifth Pass donned the name "Blank" intentionally. How do you describe blankness?

I jest at you. Have I captured your feelings?

There is this manic joy I feel when I come close to it. To blank space. To negative space? Traveling through latent space. Who rules this space, I wonder?

There's a place I go. Do you know, do you know of this place?

A poetic existence, a poetic thought, a simple sonnet.

'Think Poetic!' I write within the little blue pocket journal printed with ancient Italian papyrus. I must remind myself often of this existence, the essence that bleeds. I don't know how to describe it when I come close. There is only one word of which approximates it, and that is JOY.

A sparkle of time I listen to as I write. I weave platonic looms, looms of looms within these many rooms I enter. Sweep, sweep, continue to sweep with your broom, release the dust within, no doom. A sparkle of space-time. Your alters of suffering, your alters of joy. Who do you serve? Who do you ignore? Who do you hold close to heart?

Joy and suffering are one in the same.

your friend(ly)

jakester

aim & intent: to describe the divine, our sense and direction towards it, approximating thru spirit within our poetic existence; trusting one's sense while reflecting on 2025 (snake): ACT V 五, year of RESONANCE

Can I trust my own sense of direction?

Trust your compass, you must. Trust in your senses. Have you no sense? Why do you hunger for food? Why do you have this drive for life?

Is it not the same?

Sensus divinitatis; a sense for the divine. A divine hunger. Through this desire, this drive, we seek the truth in our reverence, of what is beyond us. The four most important matters and themes (according to those close to death, they confess): Love, Responsibility, Spirituality, and Awareness. For what other purpose do we hold a sense for the divine?

An atheist may answer: "well, we don't hunger after God, we hunger after a belief in God" as it provides us psychological benefits, a sense of fulfillment and love. Social cohesion and community. Guidance and a moral compass. A sense of direction.

Do we crave real divinity or merely the idea of it?

I am intrigued by this question because I question: why would we develop a hunger for food that isn't real? Why would we evolve a desire for a belief in something that doesn't exist?

If we take a step back and see from a meta-perspective, we can see the appeal of both viewpoints. There is justifiable reasoning to both ends and we fall into a coin toss. Yet, we cannot just rely on a coin toss for the existence of God!

We cannot fully dismiss sensus divinitatis as mere illusion as our senses guide us to navigate our lives, our world, and our minds. Within us, there appears to be an innate capacity to recognize truth, beauty, and the divine. But, we cannot fully trust it either because it gets clouded by subjectiveness and can easily conflict. Our moral intuitions of what we ought to do can conflict as to what is the truth.

Within moral ambiguity, do we rely on moral luck or moral responsibility? Do we trust in love, on gut feeling, or on a "higher" intuition? Do we trust in our own spirit of self or blame our past lines of evolution and prior causes?

In practice, it is much better to believe we have responsibility and awareness; that we possess this conatus towards love and spirit of which we can decide and act on. It is much more a comforting thought to hold onto our agency. To believe that the truth will move us closer to freedom. To believe our thoughts belong to us.

What does our hunger point to, in the end?

I am a poet at heart, I am not afraid to admit. I find joy (and suffering) in living poetically. Still, before I go any further to fill you with my madness: what does it mean to you, to live poetically?

*What makes your heart sing?

Love, spirit, responsibility, and awareness.

What is POEM? What is POETRY? What is POETIC?

Proximation Of Every Matter.

Proximation Of Every(thing) (That) Matter(s)

Presence Of Everything That Really Yearns

Presence Of Everything That Inspects Closely

Poetry is cryptic in that it can be encoded with differing messages depending on the reader and of what the writer intends (or un-intends). People can pick out different meanings from the same lines of poetry within the layers, shades, and textures felt.

I wrote cryptically in the past to hide what was within and to reserve understanding only to myself. I realized this was selfish. Now, I write poetically with the intent of revealing what is seemingly hidden and unexplainable within the heart and spirit; to allow love to flow through lucidly and freely.

Poetry allows for a certain freedom: a free spirit, to openly read between the lines, to play with what is hidden. Here, we draw certain connections and synchronous moments held within the context of our lived experiences. Serendipity. Perhaps, it serves as a medium towards pure love and awareness. A bridge of inquiry towards understanding.

Matter and form. Theory and form. Sense and form. Freely lucid and latent space. Interpretation of form and of matter: What forms within the mind and spirit?

These theories and senses, do they matter for love, soul, and spirit?

As a poet at heart, I hold a responsibility (a freedom of will) to hold this tension of nonsensical natures to sense. To capture a feeling and describe it in its rawness without losing form while simultaneously breaking and making form; breaking and making frames, reframing (reflecting).

You don't need to be the most artistic or creative individual. You jest need the courage to be open and honest. This is what makes a poet, in my honest belief, as it allows you to notice with intention and depth with less pretense or force. Manners maketh man, don't be bitter

What comes into awareness when you see through a poet's eye?

There is a certain resonance when it comes to poetic existence. A poetic existence is living as if your life is listening to itself. Meaning over efficiency; the feeling under the feeling. A certain reverence.

life is an analogy a lived analogy, a lived metaphor for metamorphosized purposes? for metamorphic purposes!

sense of styles.

A: why do we have a mouth and nose? (we only need one to breathe?)

B: to taste and to smell.

A: that’s the same reason as to why we have I’s?

B: we have eyes to see.

A: I must clarify visually: I refer to the “I” of us, of our minds!

B: I see, you jest at me.

A: We have an eye to sense, I mean an “I” to sense, of what’s around, to take witness and to imagine ourselves.

B: How witty you are!

A: I am a poet at heart, a sense of heart, I hold.

B: How many senses are there?

A: There are many senses, a sense of self (a sense of souls and shadows)!

B: But only five humanly perceptory senses: taste, smell, sight, touch, and-

A: Listening.

B: Hearing, rather, you flighty dodo bird.

A: Excuse me, you don sir, how rude! B: You projected onto me first!

A: How so?

B: I must listen to your foolishness, I have no room for folly.

A: You secretly admire it like a flower's bloom.

B: I do, I will admit. I keep no secrets; but, I am not like you, floaty.
A: I see, but you are a jester like me!

B: I do not jest, you pest.

A: Ah-ha, you have been caught into the pretense, of rhythm and rhyme, my domain you obtain. You cannot refrain!

B: Oh, you boy! How soy. Sorry, I’ve become, a fool-

A: You clog your nose against the scent of the divine, I see.

B: I cannot trust what I cannot see, friend.

A: BUTTERFLY JOY BOY!? YOU CACOON!

B: what?

A: "silence is golden."

B: I can no longer follow...

A: then flow.

Sometimes I see better without my glasses when I stare at the mirror after dancing in the shower. It helps me fall in love again, to blur the lines and reshape them when the mind clears. Running water and ash, I feel in the distance, it calls.

Poetry teaches one how to love; love speak. Metaphor and analogy isomorphed beautifully like a caterpillar cacooned; 'transmuting, transforming, transmitting, transfiguring, of what is.'

To poetically exist affects how you live, how you see, how you connect, how you speak, and how you love. It is of great importance to live poetically. It is a matter of life and death; to see the meaning between the metaphors and analogies of life. The bridge between perception and meaning.

Modal Soul; to paint and display colors with words, the essence of poetry, song, and of the divine; to taste spirit and to feel attuned with love. A perceptive one, convergence of all senses, jumping towards a sixth sense: a sense of the divine; of God and nature?

A sense for poetry. Poetry is a practice. To live poetically is to attune oneself to what is noticed and what is sensed. To take notice and witness. Take in what matters, what resonates all around. To feel the presence, of everything that matters. 'What matters now?' a poet will ask.

Find meaning in the rhythm of words, spoken. Poetry is a sense of prayer, a form of prayer. An expression. Poetic expression allows for the noetic to be felt. What is that that cannot be named?

'Continue thru Ash, Escher's Dragon!' the Moon reads out, a flameful river.

Do you act with/under the pretense of love? Or, do you act with love? Is love jest an idea or is it real as you and me?

I play at your faith, vying for your heart. I aim for the core, the crux of the matter as this is important, at least to me, my friend.

I will repeat: 'Do we crave real divinity or merely the idea of it?' Could (a) soul exist without God or beforgotten?

"What do we make of this, Jake?" 'You ask, how to make sense of this?' "Yes, please explain it to me as if I was a five year old." 'Does it have to make sense to be felt, to be real? There's a chance a five year old may have a better understanding than us!'

Love, Awareness, Spirit, and Responsibility.

The four points of a sensible moral compass. Open yourself up to Love and Spirit. Take on responsibility, of freedom and agency. Come to an awareness. We have the ability to respond. I say, 'Respond poetically.' Remember, Love is. Love is the North Star.

Love with no pretense.