Minus Identity Who Am I
Starting from the void, my voyage has been adventurous.
Who am I, yet, without the fleck of the Param Atma?
With the image of God, existence has been virtuous.
This vessel of my body bears the spirit of Allah.
I am a fountain of flow. I am a river in flux.
I am a lake with whirlpools. I am an ocean with waves.
In my movements as a lonely star, God has been my crux.
There are, in my core shrine, marvelous, mysterious caves.
When the body is not mine, when the spirit is not mine
I say I'm. I exist. Am I not, yet, a car on rent?
When the spirit travels within me, everything is fine.
In each twist and turn, in this spirit, I find my vent.
Is my identity delusional, like a mirage?
Does this self imply too my physique-psyche camouflage?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
