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***
Under the maya spell of self hypnosis
What may be the optimal prognosis
We are our own prisoner
As also the jailor
There is no one here
And yet we fear
Illusions
Owing to delusion
Being in thought entrapment
So pausing to rest in quiet contentment
Time stops and bliss explodes
Spiralling outward attention implodes
As a void of emptiness
Magnetised and charged in fullness
With love electricity
One energy manifesting variety
As joy-compassion-bliss-purity
The bubble of illusion bursts
Ending ego thirst
We recover to rediscover
That we are He and no other
So many clues
Yet seen only by few
The ones who choose
Without excuse
To renew
Anew
Essence of presence
Childlike innocence
In stillness
***
__________________
The Self has no attribute
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