THE POEM: Have you ever tried meditation? Struggling hard to concentrate, and keeping your mind as blank as a whitewashed wall by closing your eyes, nose, ears; and shutting out every possible thought. Every thing. And, the only failure, that ever came, the only gross betrayal— was from your own skin. You will have known this. Do you still remember, how, the first distractions arose? And you blamed skin as a sinner; how, when your kundalini was rising, shaken, you felt the cold concrete floor skin rubbing against skin, your saffron robes, how, even in a far-off different realm— your skin anchored you to this earth. Amidst all that pervading emptiness, touch retained its sensuality. You will have known this. Or if you thought more variedly, about taste, you would discount it—as the touch of the tongue. Or, you may recollect how a gentle touch, a caress changed your life multifold, and you were never the person you should have been. Feeling with y
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