Poem The Illusion of Self

We are but fleeting thoughts,
In the ever-changing mind,
A collection of perceptions,
Of the world we find.

The self we think we know,
Is just a fleeting guise,
A mask we wear to show,
To the outside, our lies.

But peel back the layers,
And what do we find?
A void, a space,
Of the timeless kind.

The self is an illusion,
A construct in our head,
An ever-shifting puzzle,
That we try to put to bed.

But the truth is, we are one,
With all that's ever been,
A part of the great whole,
That we call the universe within.​

 

[jinny]

Agree!

Sometimes our brain is the illusionist itself.

Thanks for sharing!