Do I fear the unmasking? What horror awaits
That I should know is coming by guilt that I feel
At the pit of my gut? Why this sense of surprise
That I have something coming? I wear a disguise
That is known as the ego. It is grossly real.
I cannot feel wholehearted when it dominates.

The ego is a force field that works like a lens.
It reflects what is inside outward but with flaws.
Our perceptions are finite. We use them to deal
With this rigid reality, damned to conceal
All that is not of this world and bound by its laws.
When the ego dies, that is the moment life ends.

Do I fear my undoing or fumbling head on
To a possible train wreck, or living in grace
Among those who I equal? What can penetrate
What I sense as my force field can cause me to hate.
What reflects back into me in time I will face.
The fear will cease completely when the mask is gone.