Mirage of I

In mirrors of perception, we gaze,
At shadows we call our own,
A fleeting image in life’s haze,
An ego we’ve carefully grown.

Like ripples on a placid lake,
Our sense of self distorts and bends,
A transient form, quick to break,
When wind of change descends.

We grasp at traits and cherished roles,
As if they were our very core,
Yet like clouds across the sky, these scrolls
Of identity soon are no more.

In attachment, we seek to find,
A solid ground, a fixed abode,
But self, that specter of the mind,
Is but a trick of light on road.

Release the grip on who we seem,
Embrace the void, the formless true,
For in letting go of self’s dream,
We touch what’s real, ever new.