Whether or not I live in me
Whether or not anyone knows
Whether I am or am not in breath
In the knowledge of a finite frame .
What matters does it in the string of time
What matters when the expansion cease,
There are questions of infinite scores,
Answers too few to hold them tight
They fly around in a conscious mind
Leaving a chariot six-way pulled.
What force the questions can drag the cart
Which way the wheels do turn and tilt
Is all a politics of the finite mind
And game of the illusion myth.
We try to believe in a goal of life
Not knowing where the starting was
Not even knowing where we are
What pace should the travel be
We know not what we actually are
Yet we pretend ourselves of what we do
There are moments we feel we do
There are moments we feel captive
We are still those waves of light
That come and pass our conscious mind
Those which fill the illusion around
And makes us think I am "I"
Paved along the path of life
At some point where "I" am carved ...
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