Thee And Me

At the twilights quiet call I walked towards the shoal; in trance; in haze possessed by the dim dusks spilled grace and stood alone like a dumb rock. When back to my senses, I lied on the sandy bed; peered inside the pond to find its rock bottom and my image in that fluid prism. Fickle are the waters by waves, ficklest is the mind fazed by thoughts. They rouse even to the slightest of stir; just slaves to all the knaves. Hey Ram, hey Raam, I called and cussed demurred, implored, billowed and cursed... the one in whom I keep my trust... the one in whom my doubts are worse. Flustered, I kept pelting pebbles into the pool; melting the calm. Between my wish and the impulse I swayed alike a lamp in the storm. Im still out there at that sand shoal waiting to see the waters still to find its rock bottom and my image, the true and mystic I.