By Aashiq S Kerala, India
…and thence the erratic trio,
Id, ego, and superego,
were caught,
For untamed, unparalleled lives,
Which left the human self stranded.
The moment of truth,
The death sentence, is due.
For moments,
Id dreaded like a corpse working out.
Ego’s conflicts were frothing up,
‘Morality’s a bitch’!
He thought.
Superego was cool.
He never denied.
Never expected.
As the one much close to the soul,
Unbothered by physical forms,
The youngest, the wisest of the bros,
Chilled as always.
Focused on flesh,
We too are transient.
Locked up,
Unable to assail at all.
Freedom is the foster child of wisdom.
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