Selves
Their question flow
Overflow
From the bucket of their selves
They cannot contain
Themselves.
“who are you?”
They ask of myself
Or perhaps
Themselves?
Laughter bursts from my
Mouth
There is no you,
I whisper.
No i.
Only Him
The only reality.
This world, a skilled thief
Robbing us
Of the divine sanctuary
Of sacred monotony
Of his presence
Filling us in return
With our selves
Myself
Your self
Ourselves
Our souls eaten by our own
Selves
Our hearts blinded
by our self
The self
Caricature of Satan
Flowing in our veins
Throbbing in our being
Well and alive
Nourished by us all
In our ignorance
and contempt
and our selves.
Painting: Badrunissa Bhat
