The Self

There isn’t a map to the self

None has set foot in that realm

It does not choose to hide

It’s lost in the glare of the mind’s pride

The self doesn't just have two eyes

To restrict it would be unwise

To the narrow window of the mind

Where we burn time as joy is mined

The self is mirrored in nature

It's alive even as a picture on paper

Where can the self hide?

To see the sky, there’s no need for a guide

In the emptiness inside

The question is clarified

The self’s everywhere, it can’t be tied

It’s not in its nature to hide