Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Yes, there is the exalted self.
The one that shines like the sun,
that rides clouds to glory,
converses with saints.
Then there is that other,
the quieter, less obtrusive one,
like a watcher that is always
waiting for the moment
to enter the house,
This one is filled with regret,
with a sense of repeated folly,
all the scars of the years,
the blows given and received.
Sometimes they peer at each other
across the distances,
remember the presence that is there,
Who I am?
October 26, 2015
(picture by N. M. Rai)