The house of well-being.A Poem by andrew mitchell
Sir! Sir! Excuse me Sir!
Yes! What is it? We can’t find self. Come again! Self has disappeared. What! Without self we are no more. Have you tried the emotions: happiness and sadness? Nothing Sir. Have you tried the vital organs? No news from heart or lungs as yet. Contact spirit, he’ll know. We tried that, apparently he’s on a long vacation meditating high in the sky somewhere around the stars. Try digestion and toxicology. We have something Sir. It appears self has been poisoned. Oh no! It’s too late. What is it Sir? Self has died. Suddenly, I don’t feel well. I’m fainting, fading.... © 2021 andrew mitchell |
Stats
31 Views
Added on February 21, 2021 Last Updated on February 21, 2021 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more.. |

Flag Writing