dear little ego

are you not tired of this treasure hunt,

no gold at the end of the rainbow

and no end

 

your story is a dark cloud

it blocks the light but has no substance

and goes as the wind blows

 

you think you’re in charge–

you don’t even decide when to breathe,

that effort makes you weak

a personal gravity holding you down

 

though your mirror is broken

your vision blurred,

when you surrender and your little sun sets

a sky of stars appears inside and around you

 

you have heard this song,

a full moon of white sound that makes you weep–

make that your prayer

 

you felt a rose open

where a world of flowers raise their heads—

that is your true purpose