Killing the Self to Find the Self
I nail this iron through my hand
Into the solid dead oak wood
Then the next
And so my feet
How the flesh will burn triumphantly
How it loves to be acknowledged
But I must refrain to misery
I must kill these convictions
Of self honor
Identity is mere classification
A concept brooding tragedy
To feel whole is to be empty
Of selfish thought and desire
To be one with all is to free
From self anchoring
Chains of lust
Power and pride, the price to pay
I think of this while I hang
But what power can match that of
Self control
What can pride do for a man
But drain his peace of mind
I will learn to relish my breath
As an addict his vice
My link of conscience reality
To an overwhelming existence
-Stephen G. T.