My soul is a bird

My soul is a bird, it’s flying high, higher and higher

Over my ego’s tree, rooted in ground of my selfishness,

Where emotional famine is the ruler!

How come, would you say. How come he does not want

To stay away from this land where leaving his dreams

Seems to be easier than living his real.

My soul talks to my ego, about what I mean, and what

I do, how I bind myself to just put 1 % of commitment in

Being, only but how I end being a copy of who I am.

My ego replies with harshness, then tries to hug my soul,

And keeps on with displaying a billboard of lies at my window.

Ready to fly in those dark dreams, sweetened by my egocentric motive.

I see how it could have been, but I’m not sure that it would have been this true,

I mean, Am I at that confident that truly leaving my ego would have equalled to

The Salvation of my very soul?

Before kissing redemption have I been facing my liability in the destruction of myself?

Or is the destruction of myself the best way to embrace my truest self?

My soul smiles at my ego, as they should not be divided.

My ego yells at my soul so that they can sit together.

No more waiting, all is in the living.

No more waiting, all is in the living.

No more waiting, all is in the living.