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This Grand Illusion (A Poem) - Please Read

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Ayodhya

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The original title of this poem was Maya, but no one in my poetry class understood it and I wasn't about to spiel on for an hour about Hindu metaphysics, so I changed it to This Grand Illusion

This Grand Illusion

 

Dark is this world

As it is to the unborn,

Once free, then wrapped

In a shawl of maternal affection

Around our balding heads and weary eyes

Our weapon.

Our shield.

For it does not burn

And it does not tear.

Crystalline planks, dive

Up in a wave, to a place

Unlike an ocean, and unlike a pond,

Bewildered by eternity,

All to the tint of the blue.

A drop back in the bow and once again

we see with weary eyes,

All to the intransitory veiled.

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