All teachers serve me short time before they kill me

i see blurred.

When the blurredness returns
i see
is doing

i am, as i see
through it i learn

what and what not
who and who not
where and where not
how and how not
when and when not
it, not it

the blur speaks to me
it forces me
with exclamation to
get in conversation with

my most inner.

The blur is my friend
my protection from fiend.

i must follow
or i forever stay in,

blaming out
while in
where provided me all the tools
to break through,

beyond that what
convinced the blur to take my vision
and provide me
a teaching.

More i allow
to live behind blur
more i disconnect
my most inner

from those

i was put out to
come in communication

The blur is
my teacher
also possible death.

All teachers should
serve short time,
before they turn to
make me ill, eventually...

Will I listen?

Sick, bad luck, 
accidents, serendipity,
meetings, good luck,
the signs

All are
for me to blur
my current essence
of organ perception
from where I rise
up again.

Only then,
can become.