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The world is a phantom of delight.

Tshering97Tshering97 Bhutan New
edited February 2016 in Arts & Writings

"A phantom of delight."

I am but a fragment,
A fragment of a bigger entity.
I seek the truth,
It turned out truth itself is seeking me.

I was so far-sighted,
I lost my adjacent view.
I searched far and wide,
I failed to grasp my inner light.

The whole universe tried its best,
To embark me on this quest,
For discerning my bona fide zest,
I took it as just another jest.

I turned a blind eye to the truth,
It triggered a cascade of perplexity.
By this time ignorance took it's toll,
I couldn't fathom reality's expression.

It was as close to me as my eyebrows,
Right along from the distant first.
I deemed everything to be enduring,
When every atom and cell yelled impermanence.

I surmised everything to be existing independently,
Even when nature's first call was reliance.
If you don't agree with this genuine bind,
I hold you custody to name one in your right mind.

Everything is the mind and the mind is everything.
I align my sight on the city of dreams.
And i can't seem to identify a thing,
That is not an artifact of the mind.

Everything that takes birth will cease to exist.
Everything that once shone will loose it's lustre.
Everything has it's accorded deadline.
And i stand in the middle of it all.

I am but a lost cause,
For the ship of freedom has sailed.
Maybe if i look in the right place,
I may one dawn soar in the bright open sky.

I am the explorer that lost his compass,
I am the sailor that wrecked his boat,
I am the artist that broke his hand,
I am the spirit with no purpose.

I have galloped the four corners of the earth,
And left no stone unturned.
For lasting happiness is a rare gem,
As if i am searching for a stream in the deserted plain.

That will be the fate of everyone,
If they look for aqueous life on land.
Life is fast as the clouds of autumn,
And death uncertain as the brewing of a storm.

I am the humankind,
I came from a troubled past,
And am stirring into the unknown future,
What moment have we truly got than the explicit present.

I am the part of a bigger we,
With no relative they.
For reality expounds selflessness,
And Phenomena as empty.

What we call comfort is transient,
That roots from the insatiable sense organs.
How many times have we been let down,
By the demolition army of our greed.

Hurrah! One man rummaged for truth,
And came into terms with the absolute.
The question we should ask is,
Who is he?

Who is he?

Who is he?!...



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