This is one of my dear mind poems.
My Dear Friend
You're living in layers—
like jackets you forgot to take off.
They mumble over one another,
and none of them speak plainly.
You avoid the obvious,
like a sock hiding under the bed.
You argue with things
no one else can see,
keep checking the time
as if it owes you answers.
You're spinning
in your own footprints.
Even your reflection
seems unsure.
And maybe—just maybe—
dear mind,
you’ve never heard
what the quiet was trying to say.
2/03/16
How a poem about Mool Mantra evolved.
my friend, you are living in multitudes
you don't know your true essence
you don't do what's right
you are living in fear
living in conflict
you are a slave of time
you are going in circles
you are not even yourself
because you don't have the gift of the guru
9/23/15
v2.
My Dear Friend
You wander through multitudes,
each one wearing your name,
yet none knowing the flame
at the center of your breath.
You sidestep truth
like it’s a crack in the road,
live at war with your own shadow,
chained to the ticking of clocks.
Your steps trace circles—
a dance with no music.
You are not even you,
just a voice without a listener.
What else could it be,
but the absence
of the Guru’s gift?
3/14/16
v3.
My Dear Friend
You're living in layers—
like jackets you forgot to take off.
Each one talks over the other,
and none of them speak plainly.
You avoid the obvious,
like a sock hiding under the bed.
You argue with things
no one else can see,
keep checking the time
as if it might explain something.
You're spinning in your own footprints.
Even your reflection seems unsure.
And maybe—just maybe—
dear mind,
you’ve never heard
what the quiet was trying to say.
7/11/16
v4,
My Dear Friend
You're living in layers—
like jackets you forgot to take off.
They mumble over one another,
and none of them speak plainly.
You avoid the obvious,
like a sock hiding under the bed.
You argue with things
no one else can see,
keep checking the time
as if it owes you answers.
You're spinning
in your own footprints.
Even your reflection
seems unsure.
And maybe—just maybe—
dear mind,
you’ve never heard
what the quiet was trying to say.
2/03/16
Singing oneness!
0 Comments