They fall again,
Some
blots of brown,
Ugly,
Yet
not me,
It’s
the dress I wear,
Only
that much should I care;
These
stains will come when in dirt u play,
An
essential part of a life that’s intensely gay,
Stopping
short,
Crying
for what’s not,
Not
the real me, but a cover on my bod;
Play
on, one moment at a time
through
the breath u hold dear
When the game’s done, I will remove the gear;
Now, let us go back in the field
again
To
cover myself with spots,
Spots
that are coloured in fear and in pain…
PS
- the occasional "Bad Trips" of fear, claustrophobic hallucinations, that are reminders
that I am neither the body nor the mind. These two identities can be shrugged
off like the clothes I wear. Jai guru dev - the emotional connection with the
Divine - that hand hold that allows me to suck the strength out of the
universe. Fear is the discomfort of the mind and pain that of the body.
