Of Dogs and Men: A Tale of False Domains

 





The street is theirs, or so they claim,
Marking borders in a fleeting game.
Like tigers with no jungle to own,
They guard the pavement, a borrowed throne.

A stray appears, a walker trails,
And with it rise the howls and wails.
An uproar loud, a senseless fight,
For what was never truly their right.

In houses too, the story’s the same,
Dogs bask in love, yet stake their claim.
A fence, a leash, a bed to share,
But ownership? An illusion’s snare.

And are we not, in our grand charade,
Just like these dogs, by delusion swayed?
We covet lands, we hoard and bind,
All transient treasures of a restless mind.

The scriptures warn, the sages teach,
That what we grasp lies out of reach.
The world, they say, is but a loan,
No self to anchor, no thing to own.

From Sankhya’s depth to Vedanta’s call,
The truth emerges: we own nothing at all.
This body, this mind, these fleeting ties,
Are passing clouds in the infinite skies.

Oh dogs of the street, oh humans too,
Why bark for shadows that slip from view?
To live unbound, to see what's real,
Is the peace the wise forever feel

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