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Luminous self

It was here, in this abode I undressed myself one by one  Laid bare all the trophies and the scars Plucked the guts to see as they really are.
By Shruti Achal

It was here, in this abode

I undressed myself one by one 

Laid bare all the trophies and the scars

Plucked the guts to see as they really are.


My perfectly imperfect nude self 

That I carried for eons without a meaningful glance

That it rebelled, it hurt, it bled when I touched it the first time

Ruthlessly ignored for the promises and worldly delights.


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Here wind would caress them

Leaves cover my guilt and shame

Because somewhere we shared the stories 

Of being ripe and fallen and all the pains 

Of homelessness and the search for the place

The place to hide, to play and the one to rest.


In all the darkness, the gloom and the despair

I could see all those who came never to stay

And in the sudden presence of the rays

All those smiled; they had actually never strayed

The pull of this infinite existence is strange but so deep

I must take leave, to be now and here, to plunge into it. 


I struggled and scrambled in the bouts of hopelessness

Strained myself until my eyes could pierce through these trees 

If the clouds could no longer cling, could rain again 

And the empty, clear sky would grace the day.


That brings forth the beauty of the nude self

When all is gone and wiped and erased

The burden of the being and the clutters of the past 

Is the luminous self that forever remains.

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