With each passing day, something grows stale.
My body goes through decay in this cosmic game.
My thoughts become ineffective if I sit on it even for a day.
I gain a new perspective as I look through the haze.
Thoughts are like food, they lose their freshness every second.
If I fail to act on them immediately, another one beckons.
Nothing is new but it all feels different.
What changes and what remains constant is the thought that plagues my mind at this very moment.
I was born, I went to school, I grew up, and I became the seeker.
I am ignorant; I think I know, I was unhappy, I am now happy. I will die. I once lived. The questions keep going deeper.
The ‘I’ that went to school is a stranger to the ‘I’ here ruminating.
But something is still the same, witnessing and deliberating.
What is that constant? The one who witnessed the ignorant ‘I’
and now is witnessing the seeking ‘I’.
This witness eludes me, yet is everything to me.
The separation of body/thoughts with the ‘I’ is completely understood. If I am not the constantly changing body and mind than what am I? I have seen the changes. What I have seen and witnessed, cannot be me. The subject cannot be an object of observation. If I am the subject then how can I be objectified?
These thoughts keep plating themselves in front of me.
They conflict, they collaborate, and they create uproar in me.
The food on my plate is appetizing to say the least
But I leave it untouched denying myself the feast.
life from thought to thought 