Awareness flashes forth from waking dreams -
Amid the clouds, a peek-a-boo of sun,
Mere thought of self can be the death of fun -
My consciousness, more fractured than it seems.
While newly born, I formed the concept ‘mother'
Abstract from intermittent smells and touch,
Conceived my precious self, another such
projected separation from ‘the other'.
My isolation and the dread of death:
not the human fate, but mere illusion.
The goals I set myself in such profusion:
each a meditation on the breath.
If only I might fathom where I've been
when, bridging deaths, I wake in different skin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem