I think of myself less
to allow the inner knowing to grow vaster,
as I am moving faster through my habitual loops.
And as I care less of what I think,
will I ever sink
in someone else's opinionated stink?
I stare at myself less
with that right eye-brow arching approach,
replacing reproach with a childlike wonder.
And as I forget my face,
will I ever race
to take impostor's overrated place?
I bypass myself less
as I follow the movement control order.
If I can't move any further, I won't feel ashamed.
And as I let myself flow,
will I ever bestow
my heart on the long faceless row?
I mistrust myself less -
but entrust more to the original timekeeper.
I freely tour as a day-tripper in-between time and space.
And in this everlasting bliss
will I ever dismiss
my indispensable inner peace?
And as we do more or less,
which of these two actually means more?
And why doing more seems less meaningless?
And as we question it more,
will we ever ensure
that this maze endures forevermore?
YOU ARE READING
Thank You Letters To Coronavirus
PoetryWe shall not be afraid and fall into victimhood. It was designed to kill but it rebirthed to grant us a life; to revive divine sisterhood and brotherhood; to awaken from darkness into the light. We shall not feel disserved as it serves our highest...
