dear little ego
are you not tired of this treasure hunt,
no gold at the end of the rainbow
and no end
your story is a dark cloud
it blocks the light but has no substance
and goes as the wind blows
you think you’re in charge–
you don’t even decide when to breathe,
that effort makes you weak
a personal gravity holding you down
though your mirror is broken
your vision blurred,
when you surrender and your little sun sets
a sky of stars appears inside and around you
you have heard this song,
a full moon of white sound that makes you weep–
make that your prayer
you felt a rose open
where a world of flowers raise their heads—
that is your true purpose
–Swami Ramananda
