I think this poem is about growing up.

Wuji Seshat

55

I no longer have any idols
Beauty has scattered
Desires have fled

My ascetic’s door has been taken
My prayers no longer have a sutra
My heart no longer has an object

I have forgotten the memory
Of god and the world
I no longer write a poetry of sweetness

Or care to sing of my afflictions
No heart is left in me except
The friend to all the worlds
That seeks to treat each equally.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Lonely-swimmer-404679490

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