Burnt Offering Poem by Kishore Asthana

My ego, the progeny
Of my wandering mind
Is like Isaac
To Abraham

When the soul
Tells the mind,
'Take now thy son
Who thy lovest,
And offer him
For a burnt offering'
It is no surprise
That only for the wise
This comes to pass
And their Self, unmasked,
Shines,
In all its glory

For most of us
In this looking glass
The mind stays away
From the mountains of Moriah

It just laughs and goes
Its merry way
And our ego lives
To fill our world
With its children
Who shape our lives
In its own image

Alas, for us,
Our soul remains
Just
An incipient God