Ephemeral temptations encircle like Ouroboros,
Ineffectual, feeble attempts to resist the fleeting allure.
A chameleon, my essence displays prismatic hues, transient yet captivating.
Shadows play, appearing and disappearing like whispers in the wind.
The self mirrors a cityscape of illusions in a cosmic mirror, as venerated Sankara said,
Truth, the sacred recipe carved out by the wise, remains just beyond my reach.
In the realm of ordinary minds, ignorance revels until life's terminal toll.
A paradox unfolds—nothing gathered, nothing lost, save the chains that bind my existence.
SV Prabhath
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