Friday, 23 May 2008

Homing In

In the receptacle of
The Collective Unconscious,
That Jung Spoke of,
Is the remnant of
That glory of the Homing instinct.

Colour, creed, sex, nationality
Can never cover that up-
Alter, mutate or negate, the intent,
The instinct!

The glimmer of recognition;
The rush of blood, to the head-
And then the feet!
The déjà vu , of the moment-
Uttering what seems gibberish,
But makes perfect sense
To that one!
Plea, prayer, confession:
Each word a blessing!

Was I ever born?
And did I ever die?
Do we ever listen
To the soul that drenches
Repeatedly, in that
Stream of Consciousness?

Usha, 20 May, 2008


  1. A stone in the river.
    what else am I?
    I liked the way the lines went.
    Your writings are deep.
    Best wishes.
    Thanx for the visit.
    me have a new post.
    do read.


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