Least Read Poems on Jelaluddin Rumi

I'm feeling more real as I am.    
More real than I'v ever been.    
A continuum, spectrum like exists.    
Between the Ideal self & the real self.    
A spectrum that were all on.
    
The Ideal self, is the person.    
We think others want us to be.    
Conforming to this image.    
We collude with others to fit in.
What ever the cost.

The true self, not to others.    
Rather to our true selves.    
As nature meant us to be.    
     
Every time we collude with others.    
Our perspective...

grasses have dried to be the sun-eaten soiled    
stalks beyond any greeny recognition .. as if in a  
flash second locust infested devastations… to    
a meagre left out an almost nothingness    
   
   
these papery flowers of the bogainvillea  
are not really the flowers ..conning colourful    
bracts hiding a puny off- white bud like flower  
inside ..    
   
   
the flashy reddened autumnal almond leaves    
in a luxurious leathery plumpish flesh.. have been  
impudently sucked off to merely a skeletal...