Let Not Tail Wag the Dog
Offerings we hold on to,
in time become egoic glue
and thus suspect are desires,
chasing dreams ego aspires.
Ego’s but an interface,
letting memory retrace
fond longings holding appeal,
rekindled with zest and zeal.
Conjuring thus, our life script,
our soul’s light now derelict,
we prolong our agony,
bemused by pain’s symphony.
To know the truth, clear as day,
cessation then is the way,
bringing soul’s light centre stage,
signalling we’ve come of age.
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