When I Let Go of What I Am, I Become What I Might Be

I am chained in unseen stringed bondage of essence. I am what this world defines me and labels me with. I am bound, bound in my own self, outer existence. My real Self is hidden under that floating hyacinth. The flight of Self-discovery drifts towards identity Like the skin-shedding metamorphosis of butterfly. When the outer eyes dim in cynical earth’s vanity, A hushed trumpet illuminates the insight, inner eye. Echoes of inner self melts in outcries of outer self. When I ignore what I am, I ensue what I might be. Many puzzling choices are placed in abstract Shelf. Something calls me. Searching, I find none but me.