The Prize, or The Search

I feel larger than my shell
How do I remain contained?
I do not
Can people not see me outside of myself?
My aura, my chakra, my Soul
It escapes in spirals and waves
Tendrils of my Essence
I do not feel like retrieving them
They search
They have trouble finding what they seek
I release them to continue
Seeking and not finding concerns me
What is so important to be hidden so well?
I look inside for answers
They are there
Ignore the form
Break the rules
Shed the trappings of human existance
Free the Soul
Nothing is truly hidden
I must continue for I am driven
I find what I do not look for
Like baubles found, once thought lost
That tells much about the real prize
Then I consider...
Is there such a prize?
Is my desire to find, only a human construct?
Perhaps there is nothing more than to find myself
Nothing more than freedom of spirit
Nothing more?
Another corporeal thought.
What more could there be?
Nothing more.
Death will reveal the rest
In it's due course
I am not ready for that great journey
So I search for that which cannot be found
I reach out with my Soul and touch
I touch the people that I find who may be searching also
I touch without touching
We are like baubles found
Once thought lost
We are all the prize

"I am still immersed in my own internal process. I have embraced my writing as a new part of me and yet it still feels like a release, I do hope that does not change. I begin to wonder how I can remain contained "

That was the trigger, the word "contained".

I cannot shake the feeling that I have described in this poem. It took writing another email to let me feel the ending as I stumbled on, "So I search for that which cannot be found". I am not sure whether this is about the search or the prize as they are so intertwined...finding the prize does not end the search....and the search was not really for the prize in the first place.

I hope never to shake this feeling to be honest.

Jeff.