In the Prison of Perception
By Zaman Stanizai
In the prison of perception
in the midst of darkened seas
our shadows still project
a scribbly silhouette—
an “othered” face of god.
From refracted revelations
we carve niches and wide spaces,
we make places, we make people
with identities galore.
In heaped high stratifications
we can’t see complementarities
of colors, hues, and shades.
Fine distinctions
of that paintbrush held Divine.
Contemplating mirrored images,
we indulge in retrospection.
We distance ourselves to disown the askance appearance,
but the mirror doesn’t flinch or blink,
defying the effacing of the true image we disdain.
We can’t change; we break the mirror.
Shattered crystals hold persistent self-reflections.
Shadows trace our projection,
recreating the created.
We create even great gods in our image
then claim the opposite as truth.
Narcissistically, we worship these projections
we prostrate in adoration,
return gestures in elation.
Spiraling circles of illusion—
a circumference
in search of a lost center.
For too long shadows have claimed us
in their own distorted darkness,
tracing self in its own paces
From now here to no where to know where.
Ah the virtue of indifference
to be different
and make the difference
become one with every being.
Leave the solace of seclusion.
Fly away to the far-distant blue horizons
beneath freshly painted clouds
on the edge of the great divide,
to awareness in wholeness
where matter doesn’t matter
and mind surely doesn’t mind.
In Divine domain a splendor,
in celestial beauty’s glances
remain still to be reflected
in all beings
once again.
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