In the Prison of Perception

By Zaman Stanizai 

In the prison of perception

in the mist of darkened seas

our shadows still project

a scribbly silhouette—

an “other’ed” face of god.

From refracted revelations

we carve niches and wide spaces,

we make places, we make people

with identities galore.

In heaped high stratifications

we can’t see complementarities

of colors, hues, and shades.

Fine distinctions

of that paintbrush held Divine.

Contemplating mirrored images,

we indulge in retrospection.

We distance to disown askance appearance,

but mirror doesn’t flinch or blink

defies effacing the true image we disdain.

We can’t change, we break the mirror.

Shattered crystals hold persistent self-reflections.

Shadows trace our projection

recreating the created.

We create even great gods in our image

then claim opposite as truth.

Narcissistically we worship these projections

we prostrate in adoration,

return gestures in elation.

Spiraling circles of illusion—

a circumference

in search of a lost center.

For too long shadows have claimed us

in their own distorted darkness,

tracing self in its own paces

From now here to no where to know where.

Ah the virtue of indifference

to be different

and make the difference

become one with every being.

Leave the solace of seclusion.

Fly away to the far distanced blue horizons

beneath freshly painted clouds

on the edge of great divide,

to awareness in wholeness

where matter doesn’t matter

and mind surely doesn’t mind.

In Divine domain a splendor,

in celestial beauty’s glances

remain still to be reflected

in all beings

once again.