The environ,
The sheath, surrounding you,
The Self outside you,
The cradle, where you are born and die
And live within inbetween,
Your true world,
The ultimate guide
That leads you blindfolded
Through the cause and effect's course
Beyond the freewill
Till you grow beyond
And break out of the still womb
To creep outside
By pure chance
Or sheer Karma,
Each shell is a well
Of interminate routes
And goals to reach,
Where lie secrets
Of past and future
In crystal pure strains,
Etched deep within
Every unexplored turn
That moulds your life
As subtle system
Of interactions,
Of time and space
In men and practice
As ever-winding experience.
In own highs and lows
In conventions and laws
Of love and hate,
Of ethos, conduct,
width and breadth
The shell of confinement
Leads your will.
You feel untouched
And free in Self
While flow leeway
To the environ's hest
From lane to lane
In silent compliance,
Unless indeed
You outstretch your Self
And divorce the environ
And revolt to its complexes
That colour your Self
In permanent pigments
Of the environ's bountifuls;
You set on
Unchartered regions
Of strange worlds
To outgrow the confinements
Where lie shackled selves
In nameless graves.
Environ is the skin
To your ‘I',
A tough gendarme
At your door;
Your own, yet outside.
All, in one
At your job;
It makes you a prisoner
And drags along in leash,
Unmindful
Of your will,
To the system's service
As cog in a wheel,
While oils
For noiseless run
And guards your Self
From the intrusions
Of confounded conscience
With own value base
As perforce foundation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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