Levitate
by: Haresh Daswani

Upon no concern to the fields,
The pleasure of a rose,
The prick of its thorns,
To all which is numb...

Upon all there is below,
Deserves no concern,
Matter is but sensory reaction,
And its further stories,
A complicated wastrel to time...

With only void separating,
Void unseen,
Senses feel lonely to the absence,
Illusion that they have lived for,
Can never be felt...

As the inner senses are born,
Upon new sensation never felt,
And as the inner light,
Inner music,
Brings forth substantial clarity,
Levitation gets higher,
And the world outside starts to fade,
No regrets...