Poetry‎ > ‎

Wandering

I wrote this in the 70s when I was trying to find my identity. Along the way I tried TM, Zen, Metapsychiatry, and so much more. 

WANDERING

Like a fool in the night,
I was blinded by the light.

I knew there had to be more to life,
for all I had ever known was strife.

I searched through every book
hoping the Masters would provide a look.

The path to inner peace appeared easy to me,
because they had provided the key.

You must do this and you cannot do that,
otherwise you will be stuck in the past.

The 'self' is nothing - the 'Self' is everything.
But it cannot be found in someone's writing. 

I became confused and felt betrayed,
but still hopeful I could find my way.

My knowledge was great, but my experience still none,
Soon I questioned whether I should  have begun.

Someday soon, I hope to fly,
until then, peace is still a glimmer in my eye.


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