Self
It has been telling me
Many a tale
Of woe and joy
In infancy
I cried.I smiled
At the tragic tales
At the happy ones
They thought I was in pain
They thought I was smiling at them!
As I grew up, it remained
My companion
An unfailing friend
Reliable
Trustworthy
My bedrock; my rock support
My pole-star
My adventure
My silent witness
My direction
My guardian-angel
My journey
My destination too
This self
Beyond gender
Beyond time
That always floats like
A bubble on the river
That always remains
A lotus in a pond
Aren't I 'that? '
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
