This one inside me, Is the doer, and I the medium
I the instrument, he the hand at work
I surrender all, that comes out, is created, to Him
I watch in reverence, In silent veneration
He does it all, Pray not look at me
I the ever perfect, He dirties himself
His Maya the playground, he runs/laughs/hurts himself
Why would want I the heavens, where He rests
Those heavens even, when created in Self?
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