For one, life is an endless pursuit
Of a cocktail of things
Of which are all impermanent
When one wakes up
One realises that it is a futile pursuit
One notices that immaturity
But one shall not seek a revenge
Against oneself
‘Til then one is merely scratching
The limited perception – misleading
One into believing what is love and loving
Something is missing, one realises
But one will not be able to fill that with another
Be it a person or a thing or some low being
This landscape is puzzling
Until one day, that aha moment comes
One is just the one who is watching
healing through yoga 