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this morning,
i took the life of mosquito.

just hours ago,
i taught another “great” yoga class to 15 students.

yesterday, i murdered a flying ant…mother of many children. as i chanted the Sacred Mantra with tissue poised between my fingers as a guillotine, i missed my first three attempts to kill her. in between my attempts, Her damaged wings flapped awkwardly against the window as She struggled toward Her children in desperate, inelegant movements.

when finally my fingers crushed, audibly, Her beautiful exoskeleton i looked at Ananda (who tried to kill Her first, yet could not) and…
and…
and…

Playing God is not Go(o)d for me…

such a feeble,
feeble yogi
is ilg.

why do you choose to Listen to me?

i am a fake.

i am nothing.

certainly, no yogi am i.

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