to reside in abstraction

Like flies finding onto the wooden stump in the sun and resting upon it...
To get startled by insects is to be reminded of my civilized nature...
learned concepts of beauty and peace reveal to me
the monsters of burried memory and tainted knowledge.
The call for comfort confronts me with simple nuissance.
Yet, the senses know what's artificial...but they, too, join in the dreaming.

I discover that I have sought comfort in abstraction;
now I seek peace and distraction.
I become afraid to turn sachlich,
to hold on to the matter I know has a fin.
In spite of it all, let me tell you a story!
Words without wisdom, impressions of glory.
There is lethargy in abstraction.
I dare not put in words my suspicion.
Learned to find Halt in what's hard to define.
I am going through some sort of transformation,
never ceasing to give up the mine.
It is in this abstraction that I find solace and peace of mind
with myself as conscious creature.

Do I need to learn another language?
To learn a new languague has been to
transform...to metamorphose.
Maybe I have an identity
that has four strong identities
and then some more subtle ones.
Yet, independently of linguistic manifestations
and cultural aspirations,
my identity is one.
This one exists in abstraction.
There, the moon melts into the sun,
and the spirits become one.
It is there that the mind is set free,
when life is no different than that of a tree...
or a bug, or a river, or dirt.

So many details escape me when I reside in abstraction.
I seek with reluctance to scripture.
Not sure how to deal with the trains from without.