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I am not I.

But he who walks beside me.

Remaining calm & silent when I talk,

But whom I do not see.

Stationed somewhere within “nowhere,”

But there are times when I indeed feel

His indivisible silence; the

Flint of his soul is like steel –

Hermetically sealed in his truth,

And while being taught by nature

I over heard a lesson, but

Only made a mockery of him,

And those whom given him blessings.

I am not I.

But he who forgives

Gently when I hate; whom

Heart remains open,

Even when his eyes are not awake;

Who runs where I walk, and

Who will remain walking when I die.

It remains…

I am not I.



Tha Prodigal One...