Temporary Lives
We believe this lifetime will last forever;
but it’s merely our life in disguise;
it’s only a chapter; that death will sever;
it’s one of our temporary lives.
Every day is a page in our book of life;
one lifetime is only a chapter;
a
Engaged
Words are the foundation of physical reality;
thoughts evolving into light;
the building blocks of an energy duality;
different as day is to night.
Reality exists in a great many dimensions;
one is above all the others;
earth is just one of God’s extensions;
a kingdom for prodigal
Whispers Of Evil
Happiness brings forth shouts of sheer joy;
while whispers often hide what is real;
hiding their purpose; demons can be coy;
knowing evil has little appeal.
So evil usually lingers in the shadows;
the sheep don’t know they are there;
sometimes; dressed in sheep’s clothes;
Who Is God ?
Is God a consciousness of infinite synergies;
a compilation of all seen and unseen;
a consuming fire, of everlasting energies;
or simply someone’s vacuous dream?
Logic, alone, speaks to God’s existence;
since, nothing comes out of nothing;
false pride ushers in man’s persistence;
surely
It Wasn’t Meant To Be
When I was a child; I had many a dream;
about what my future would be;
most of our lives are not what they seem;
very few believed in a destiny.
As the years slowly passed; things changed;
pavement and buildings replaced the trees;
Stranger Than Fiction
It’s been said; truth is stranger than fiction;
who dares to define what truth is;
truth once led to the Master’s crucifixion;
for proclaiming all truth as his.
Truth seems strange; since few know it;
fiction is whatever we conceive;
knowledge; wisdom; when God bestows
My Better Half
Most think life is only our physicality;
ignoring the existence of the soul;
earth is the lower realm of a duality;
every dimension has its own role.
The soul was created to be God’s lineage;
both male and female, together;
a holographic illusion of God’s
Not Ours To See!
As darkness comes; a mind grows empty;
visions; simply fade out of sight;
the deeper thoughts no longer tempt me;
I’ve lost all vision of what to write.
Poems are created as metaphors of truth;
we’re given the gift to pray;
darkness comes to