Untitled Poem by Anna Ashmore

Look for the Self.

Enquire into the Self.

Find the true Self.

Now you’ve at last got “It”,

what do you do?

Watch the Self,

lose the Self,

BE the Self.

Surrender.

Don’t cloud with thoughts,

douse with palo santo

and the tears of angels,

Be the divine light of the world

Be the high Self

the selfless Self,

The direct path,

no path at all

a pathless path.

Up the garden path.

Whilst on my knees,

My heart in my hands

And yearning in my soul,

Taking it SO seriously

The self, startled at

its own absence,

giggled and packed up

without a thought

its meatiest beliefs,

(knees bending with

so much weight),

and left.

Now I look around,

a little panicked.

It took the heavies;

iron, copper, zinc

and left a little

oxygen, phosphorous

and a few molecules

wondering where to go.

Part 2

Imagine my surprise

When I realised that

Self has packed its bags

And slipped out the back door.

I felt, with a jump,

The missing weight.

It seems the pale rider

has simply fucked right off.

Just as well, she didn’t

know anyway, where to go

or any other thing.

This riderless horse

Is now free with no

Particular place

Or fixed direction

What is left?

Just this.

Thank you Emerson from Anna Ashmore