It's easy for me to speak in riddles,
it's easy for me to sing,
it's easy for me to excite,
but it's hard for me to be me.
I spoke so much - many of my lunches got cold,
I talked about everything: dance, dungeons and gold,
I wrote endless letters and read Tarot cards,
I whispered in theatres, and shouted in back-yards,
It seems I've done it all, yet I want to yell,
to sob, even scream this something I cannot tell.
I slept under the stars in a desert heat,
I danced in a crowd to the trance beat,
I closed my eyes and found Palaces I seek,
But the vision of my Self remained bleak.
I invited Love, come and flow through me,
I called for Light, to shine on my fears,
I flirted with Foolishness, it was worth a try,
But still I knew less and less - Who Am I…
13 August 2007
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3 comments:
i love it...is there more of it..?
Thank you Suparna!
More of it may come, but that is all there is right now. It was an inspired moment that I shared.
Rumi:
If this me is not I, then
who am I?
If I am not the one who speaks, then
who does?
If this me is only a robe then
who is
the one I am covering?
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