Spots

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.