A singular intelligence, is what each of us are
Yet somehow connected beyond comprehension
This individuality is a boon, mostly a curse
For we separate the unity from our origin
Does it matter that we don't think alike
Our each form enshrouding the spirit within
Is of a different color, caste and creed?
The same hand that shaped our features
Holds us steady, in the hour of our need
I am what I am, yet I am also what you are
I see the same world that you live and die in
Tomorrow this body may cease to remain, but
Our Consciousness will still be in Existence
Therefore, that is what we are in truth
A realization of which will lead us to Bliss
Isn't Bliss what we are all fighting for?
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