Moi

Sometimes I still see myself as that broken soul, spread out, motionless, tears seeping onto the floor beneath my cheek.

And I realise that I can still associate with my past heartbreak, that I am not better than it just yet. I choose every day to not be the body of suffering but to be the awareness behind my pain, behind my experience.

Oh to truly be free of the control of my ego, of that piercing feeling of not exploring my past chances enough, of that insatisfaction of today and fear of missing the best possible tomorrow.

But as long as this physical body exists, I can only hope to not be it’s slave. That the “moi” can guide me and that the “je” can stay in it’s finite, limited place.

The Zen Poet

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