Multiplicity of the Self

“I contain multitudes.” Walt Whitman ************************************************************** Multiplicity of the Self Lying between mundane earth and the sky, With one foot on land, the other on air, Yearning to pluck my wings and soar up high, Pining for folks in dire need, lying bare, My inner self, split in soulful slices, Tends towards being torn into pieces; The call for duty and family life Interacts like the smooth surge of a stream Interwoven at times with spells of strive That are reconciled within, it would seem, Yet the inner self has goals of its own That cannot in the long run be disowned. The shining stars summon my riven self, I gaze at beauty of the dazzling light, Lands unknown unfold to my inner self, Angelic lands, ever flickering bright, At the celestial sphere I long to glance, Sphere where angels stage their soft sprightly dance; Yet my self wails for fair forlorn flowers, Blooming in their full prime by the roadside, Flouted by men, snubbed by summer showers, Often tarnished with vile names and descried, I long to hear the chimes of human sound Echoing from the dreary earthly ground; My self, split into multiple layers, With each shelf preserve of some emotions, Hankers for diverse sources of prayers To meet the range of its inclinations Through the shines of seemly experience To render life worthy of existence. The inner self, home of complexity, Harbouring diverse goals and emotions, Shining with the light of perplexity, Is the legacy of man`s creation That`s reconciled by each and every man Reflecting where his inner self does stand.