Inspired/paraphrased from Chapter 4 (?) of Osho’s Life, Love, Laughter.
‘Are you there?’
I repeated until I heard.
‘Sober up’
I said.
There goes time
rolling into the valley of death.
‘Are you just passing through…’
unanchored and rootless
playing Candy Crush on the temple steps?
Pray the door open in the morning
to counter your own cunning.
Surrounded by a collective conspiracy,
obedient and carrying a box of conformity.
Go back to the pure mirror,
the born freedom, as the sky
before being hypnotised.
We all depart with empty hands;
Everything held was a dream.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
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