The Self Drops Free
You relieved me of thoughts of the Self
I held the concept out trembling in my hands
Like a sickly bird that could not fly
For I did not want to let it go
It was everything
This quest for the True Self
Which had become deeply rooted in my mind
Bounding who I am within the confines of mere idea
And ideas don’t exist
They haunt the mind
Taunt it in a whirlwind of whispers
In Your presence
Overwhelmed in the light of wholeness
My hands shook with fear
And I persisted in this fear
As all humans must for change to happen
And my ideas of the Self dropped free
Like brown leaves from a great tree
That serve it no more
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