I can’t tell what ideas will pop up
When I choose to reply you
Neither can I tell what ideas you will have
To view me.
As I speak
I speak from the unknown
The conditioning that brought me to express
What I thought was best.
But what I speak is beyond my control
Except by whatever ideas already springing up from each moment.
I thought I am speaking
How can it be?
How can I speak the Truth
When truth is not words but understanding?
How can I speak on Ignorance
Except as an experience?
There is no way I can share
Except to pray you will understand
And that too is impossible
As I am only responding to myself
And please do bear with me
When I am annoyed
As I am only annoyed with whatever ideas there is
Directed to myself.
I have never met you
Though I see you
I have never know you
Though I am with you
For I don’t exist except a mass of ideas playing up its own conditioning.