I Am Real; No Illusion. Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

The sun is not the sun;
it's light and heat are unreal.
The moon is not the moon;
it's beam and changes are unreal.
It's not a natural satellite of the earth
for both the earth and nature are unreal.
Lives lived by living things are not lives
for life itself is unreal.
Only one thing is real: the creator;
Brahma, the father of the universe.
And the rest is Maya or illusion.

Who am I then?
Just one small unreal existence!
But, how one small unreal part could be even a part of the real whole?
And, then, how me and my creator are related?
Golconda diamonds never make American diamonds.
Gold has not set up City Gold.
Never a mother has given birth to a doll.
How the supreme reality could make so massive make-believe?
From one atom to the cosmos!

What shall I do with the holy Gita then?
What shall I do with my duty with no ulterior? My religion? My wealth?
Well, if I am nothing but a soul
and it will on its release from my body
return to its abode to be unified with the supreme soul, I am nothing but a soul.
Is it then that my soul is real?
And, I am unreal!

But, who am I without my soul?
Without it I am dead.
Or just an object.
A dead body or an object doesn't have life;
love and passion, and fear for death.
Then, why you ask me if I am a gratified soul with my wishes and desires fulfilled?
How can I have wishes and desires if my life is not with me! And, how could I have life without my soul!

Is it that if I disagree with you
I am not Hindu?
A human with no religion!
I better just be a human.
The moment I cease to be a human
I cease to be anything or anyone.