THE ETERNAL ENIGMA OF SELF

Does the self
truly does its own self understand?
does the owner's experience
a helping hand does lend?

Search in the vast firmament
delve into the deepest sea
explore every dark cave of the mind
traverse the coldest Arctic-the mystery

remains and shall never
its secrets unfold
the self is a lone wanderer
its true story can't be ever told.

And an old weary man here I am
only this path I must follow-
the self must perish to be reborn
to be free it must embrace The Tao of 'letting go'.

I'm leaning back in my chair again.
Divided stability.
Courage and fear spit at each other.
Equal opportunity,
Yet courage always forfeits.

My empty gut plunges,
and I'm forgetting how to fall.
How am I here again?
So careful not to lean back;
I can't afford to.

I'm so fragile.
Forced to move.
Unstable, unsure, unbalanced.
I'm behind myself;
A defunct marionette.
All overwhelming,
All this everything,
Sewn tightly with panic.
Silence is louder than sound,
But not louder than this hammer in my chest.
Please loosen up,
So I can breath again.
Expired oxygen.

If I wasn't so stubborn,
I'd be gone by now.
If I didn't fight,
Against my body's violent scheme.
If I didn't hunt for safety,
From the bottom of this pit.

I clamber out each time,
Wearing the trauma like a growth.
In the way that I move,
The fear.
In the way that I speak,
The fear.
The fear of leaning back in my chair again.