An Epiphany Dawns
An unceasing dream occupies my mind.
In my slumber and in my wakefulness
Facts and fancies in it are intertwined.
There's truthfulness too in their nakedness.
What else is existence except a dream?
Do I not govern my sleep-wake rhythm?
Dreams sail in me as I flow like a stream.
Isn't each movement an algorithm?
My dream might end with the end of my sleep.
Should my life end as my sleep and dreams end?
I should sow goodness. Goodness, I must reap.
Shouldn't, in love of beings, my life be spent?
There's a heavenly joy that's pure and true.
Zones of pain, for this joy, I must pass through.
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