.
There is a subtle yet powerful
undercurrent,
almost a reflex,
certainly, and largely, unconscious,
that turns every moment,
every encounter,
every action and interaction,
into an opportunity
to be a someone.
.
“I, Me, Mine”
sings a quiet melody
that leads my dance,
unaware my steps point
to an invisible partner
I am dancing along with.
.
My little self whirls me—
a tango, a quick step,
and a slow foxtrot.
Even awake to my true centre,
I had not seen
that this entity I’ve maintained
has been sneaking in,
stealing each precious moment
for its own affirmation,
yet never revealing itself
in the light of my curious gaze.
.
Until one day,
I saw it,
feeding like a leech
on the life-blood
that flows directly
from the source.
.
It begs the question:
as one awakens,
what else lies hidden
in layers
not yet
accessed?
.
Nothing can be taken for granted.
To rest as one’s true self
is not rest in the traditional sense—
it demands extraordinary vigilance
and deep curiosity
to keep digging,
forever undermining
whatever foothold
we mistake for home.