Don't Stamp On Me

My eyes are glued on the parched tree with withered leaves and brittle branches. It seems like it has reached a state of renunciation slowly withdrawing from the glamorous display and retiring after a tremendous out show.
‘A parched tree’. It’s still attracting labels. Is there anything more it can shed to cease this?

I don’t need all these labels which you have given me. They don’t fit me anyway. I have never looked upon myself fitting into those and I still wonder what gave you the idea to look at me that way. Sounds to me as if you are calling names. I don’t need them. I am shedding them all, moving away and up and in. I am going up beyond all these stamps that are marked on me by mankind. I am going in, to my element to remove the identity painted on me.

Shedding, further I go
And farther I go.

With all those brand names you give, you don’t understand that my source got covered. It demands enormous effort from others to look at me as me, and sometimes also leaves me blindly searching for me.

Don’t stamp me
Not at all
I don’t need it
I reject it
Don’t give me those.

It feels as if my spirit gets caught within the small mold you have created for me, fluttering to escape and travel the expanse. When the Universe and the beyond are waiting for me to be explored, the labels you donate are a hindrance bringing me to the ground level leaving me open for the bickering.

I shed them all and go beyond being a South Indian or an Indian or an Asian. I am living with you all now enjoying being so.