A self caught in steel
Taking this self I call me
To familiar temples
And priests trapped in whites and pose

I look for a good me
a thought that makes me sound and count
I still lack what all togethers call
confidence
I can claim what I want in
rush
They laugh me out and say
still
you still need practise
and you might change in time

The head that was up on entering
is all down and broke
on leaving
The Self Will Be Realized
a thought booms
and I on ground burn
which is a familiar sight
for I have company of selfs
another life
quickened to death