Constructing Your Self-Portrait

When you were born; you’ll never know,
how you came to be on this earth;
for you pre-existed, many lifetimes ago,
and cannot remember your birth.

You were born to be an artist, forever;
working in clay, and many a medium;
destined to create yourself as whomever;
allowing your soul to avoid the tedium.

Each of your lives, wears a new face;
as the soul goes in hiding, a while;
when you come out, you must replace;
for the old one has gone out of style;

A caterpillar is the metaphor of what I say;
hiding from the creature he has become;
a coccoon is his means to soon fly away;
as he and the sky are destined to be one.

You will spend years building an image;
creating your character, from within;
created to be born of the Master’s lineage;
from energy and clay, did it all begin.

You were just a plan in the Master’s thought;
a shapeless, energy piece of clay;
now, others gaze upon the life He wrought;
for His thought is within you, today.

You’re now a sculptor, a mind made of clay;
fashioning who and what you’ll become;
creating, while living your life, each day;
for you are creation’s totality; its sum.

Monty 2/8/22. # 966