Lay My Hands across the BURNING Sands

You know that limb we are taken to from reading? The passive exertion leaving our minds to contend w/ a more meditative "hold" or contraction from all the elemental residual torpor our day usually embellishes into our psyche, creates a darkened corridor into which we are no longer content to trod. I see the "gravitation" draw into the confines of that little center of contention, but now I wonder about being in the throes of that blanked out space, now I won't dismiss it, now I want all my space back. (Instead of being backed in a corner from moving around conceptually, & then staying there, I want to consume space.) I begin to scurry across images of the book, in a precise alluding towards my take on the author's intent. I begin to project motive like this--a little logical flurrying to get ahead in the book, making information now to seem more accessible. We may assume the fancy to maintain an interest, but actually indentifying having gotten lifted solidly, & becoming that movement, one becomes incredulous at the adaptive mind. And that is a prone moment, readied & established. I want something like a half-thought, so I won't answer back, then it's on me--the thing that I am a cause-apparition on the burning dunes. Is this an explanate reality enough? I know it is analytical, but really it is a simple idea!!