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
Let It All Out
We are, each of us, children of divinity;
all have our own special role;
the sunshine of the Master’s infinity;
the dawning of God’s soul.
We always focus upon our separation;
unaware of from whence we came;
each; a molecule of creation’s foundation;
Becoming Irrelevant
Throughout life; I’ve challenged the odds;
many considered me intelligent;
riches and success became my false gods;
aging; I’m becoming irrelevant.
I thought I’d be a person of consequence;
perhaps it wasn’t meant to be;
the pathway I followed didn’t make sense;
failures
It’s Only Make Believe
Much of life, is made up of dreams;
of what we want; or want to be;
they are thought’s flowing streams;;
few of them turn into reality.
Some dream; when they’re asleep;
others dream when awake;
most of the; shallow; others, deep;
many;
A Snowflake Called Life
Darkness is heartbreak; when I’m alone;
with no one’s love to share;
sleep is impossible; since she’s gone;
emptiness doesn’t care.
I no longer drift off to sleep at night;
unconsciousness is all I achieve;
images, intermittently drift into sight;
the mind
The Breath Of Love
I felt in the grip of a total depression;
as tho reality were floating away;
feeling in great need of confession;
praying the Master look my way.
It seems as tho I’d entered guilt’s season;
waiting for answers to surface;
vainly seeking the voice
