No Words for Self

As Self emerges from Non-Self,
what you once thought straight,
now seems to be sordid curve,
what once seemed outside,
now seems rooted in the heart;
and what you desperately needed,
now seems a desperate waste of time.

Oh, and language itself:
how highly inefficient it is,
failing to capture butterfly wings,
bright thoughts brewing wild storms,
every minute like the time of raindrops,
liquid rays of sunlight, prickling heat,
shimmering the skin of black and red and white,
finally cascading into all the sands of the earth.
But language: it only gives this way or that way,
my way or the highway or your way;
left or right or up or down or….
separately together, each a part.