Alter Ego

When Jesus said I

And father are one,

Come to me you all,

Before I am gone.

Declared the Krishna,

That I am the one,

Who created the world,

All things have come.

And under the Bodhhi,

When Buddha attained,

Bursting with joy then,

Humbly proclaimed.

Which cannot be seen,

Which cannot be known,

That nothing is me,

That void, that none.

Then often you ask

And wanted reply,

A Jesus, a Buddha

Egoistic so, why.

What they conveyed

You never perceived,

With clouds in mind

Truth seldom received.

When they asserted

Themselves so high,

You looked at them

With doubting eye.

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Your ego is trouble

And it is the one,

Doubting forever, in

Always suspicion.

Either you boost it

Or get it nurtured,

At times pretending

You look so cultured.

In Krishna, in Jesus

Where is me, my,

They refer the source

When speak of I.

Mirrors are they

And simply reflect,

Who ever you are

Whatever project.

Until you know

Language unknown,

No one expecting you

Rightly respond.

The Krishna, the Buddha

The Jesus, names long,

Recognise them always

After they gone.

The Nanak, Laotse

Same Light with names.

Where ever you touch

The sea remains the same.