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.)