The Ego or Shadow of Dream


 My home is the dark place, I cannot see, if light was to catch me I’d cease to be.

I am but a shadow appearing to be actual, while all I can do is conceal what is factual.

You can try to destroy me with all your might, never do I respond to any such plight.

Kick me stomp me and shoot me too, immune to it all—for me this is true.

To diminish my self is what I do best, in my shady world none ever rest.               

Though hither and yon I move without face, my purpose seems less than monkeys in space.

Shape-shifting in silence my color is one, I slither in low places having no fun.

My existence depends upon shunning the light, no hope for change is ever in sight.

One day a clarity came home to stay, I was acting a role within God’s Play.

The end of my role I fear to depict, my return to nothingness declares the Play Script.

I appear as a shadow to one that is real, not capable of experiencing aught that I feel.

 Though appearing to deteriorate upon the play stage, my true infinite Self can never know age.

More clarity came—there’s no need for alarm, for none in the earth play are afflicted by harm.  

Some say we awaken and experience ascension, but the Play Theme is clear, there’s no such intention.

That Light Beings are shadowless is a truth that is sound, when the ego of dream vanishes, not a trace can be found.

 Apparently inseparable from one that has form, disappearing before light leaves nothing to mourn. 

Though devoted to chaos with unparalleled persistence, in the final analysis I have no existence.

As the mirage is dispelled bringing dry sands to view, the vanishing of me leaves all that is True.

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Comment by Fink Tuttle on January 26, 2016 at 6:57am
Why did Jesus and Buddha go to hell?
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No sex no love

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