I walk. I think. I frown.
My legs take me places I know not.
My eyes see places I know not.
My heart is perhaps the only thing I know.
It dies, dying, dead…—
Dead until I can truly see as my legs rest.
Self-searching journey over.
I sit on bench just watching.
Sunshine, child calls, world calls.
I sit. I can’t think. I smile.
Why search for who I am when I am that —
Exactly that underneath all thoughts and blindness.
World is beautiful.
Soul is beautiful.
I am beautiful.
No more complicated worry—
I am proud.
I am free.
I have love.
(And so does the world in all entirety.)