Poetry

Atman Manqué

Venerable monks

like phantoms

drift around

the holy temple

and its grounds

aware of me

in my totality

telepathically

though unjudgingly.

I sense they realize

that I am one of few

in modern days

who can descry

their omniscient

undirected gaze.

Oh, trapped within

the world of Maya

and all its pain

here I can yet know

what they always know

as Atman momentarily

fills my soul before

exiting the temple gates

I am dissolved again.

                                              ~ Ian Fletcher

                                                      Cardiff, South Wales, UK

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