When I was small and I was alone at home, I had this terrible feeling that there was someone "behind" me, never really got to see who it was, so now I take it for granted that there really wasn't anybody there. The other people are The Conscience and the Dream People and one's reflective form. This talks about the Psychological Self from different viewpoints. (I hope I dont 'sound' deep)
A voice in my head says,
“What are you looking for?”
I say to him, it?
“Not what; who…”
“Who are you looking for?”
He asks me, it?
“One who crosses to the next room
before I can see,
He who stands behind me
disappears when I turn to see
He who is there, waiting, watching
and testing me”
“He who is silent, yet he talks to me
He who, when I’m wrong, chides me
Silently
When I am in the right, pats me
Gently
He who teaches me, trains me
makes a compassionate human of me.”
“When I sleep he comes to me
His face a blur
and in speech a slur
I don’t recognize or hear him, and yet
I know him and I comprehend.”
“In my waking hours, he talks to me
In a language no man understands
but I do, and I think to me,
“Who am I talking to? me?
I share with him, he a better me.”
“He who is a being devoid of form
and of infinite understanding,
He who is full of mercy and patience
a lesser man, a demi-God
He is the voice, you and me.”
1 comment:
hi!
found this link thru orkut comm of abstract poems.
this poem of urs reminds me of one of my poems i wrote in my 12th or 13th yr. The underlying idea is the same but yours is surely more matured and developed. i loved it. :) mine was childish (in accord with the age at which i wrote :D).
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