To be truly self and rarest thing, is not being other's suffering.
Not wearing a face of approvals art, losing or pleasing one's own honest heart.
The authentic self is not loud or leading boast, or ever the bride of most.
To know one's light, is to know the shade, to see the ghost in lights fade.
No smiling mask and procrastinated Carnival, the soul never meant to be a circus ball.
Fools perform for every crowd, hiding truth that can't speak out.
In stillness is the divine send, my friend - the identity of counsel without end.
In this cosmic deep within, like seen in light of night, many small treasures all at sight.
They call You as soul of same, softly by your truest name.
Be the same when no one is looking on, when You twinkle with that mighty on and on.
In that enchanted charm and spirit free, the authentic self is simply all at once - to see.
Wondering the gain in that magic view, nothing in between within to renew.
The tossed coin in the hand from both sides to see, choices in the living free.
The nuisance within no more to hide or fear, all in perfect now and near.
The true face of clarity in this divine image, formless love of modest message.
The love written in the lights of parables for sure, rare and true made to cure.
When one ceases to pretend, the universe is one's best friend.
To love - is to be in no seem, dearest magic of most extraordinary dream.
And yet the only one worth dreaming, all else is just a entertaining feeling.
Being born in this cosmic sphere, is being an original in God's loving here.
Life's privilege is to be what You truly are, in the midst of all magic within, and out there very far.
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