Delusion

The assigned unseen lamp hidden somewhere, someone kindles for you when you’re made to arrive. Unperceived, it creates reflective beam of contemplation, illumines the pathway of your destined journey. The free will you make as the mental mural of pride, the lamp makes it ostensibly self-radiant, enmeshing your soul within the maze of formidable ego, that designs the deviant road you travel undisciplined. On the way you pick up some flowers of wilderness, someone graciously blossoms only for you, but you think these are epitome of your self-made image, worthy of affirmative celebration of self-seeking euphoria. On the way you tread on the trail of anguish thorns, you think you would pave a new amiable track soon, and won’t suffer on the stinging journey for long, but the perpetual torment lingers on. The disowned lamp then gets extinguished by itself, in depth of darkness you lose awareness unrestrained. The willful psyche clings to the sense of disarrayed self, and gets confined within the bubble of delusion.