The soul is dust from God’s energy;
from which, He created the man;
combined with His power of synergy;
Light flashed and creation began.
All energies entombed throughout eternity;
the ultimate powers of God, within;
a womb of creation was God’s maternity;
compelled by His thoughts to begin.
The physical body; a metaphor of mankind;
tho the energy, within, is the soul.
Souls are the ones by which man is defined;
mere appearance; the body’s role.
For the body acts as a caterpillar and caccoon;
while the true heart of the soul, may hide;
though the physical
Times change; but passion goes on;
trashing my pen and my quill;
my typewriter has long since gone;
and my computer desires my will.
Spellcheck is how the demons began;
as though, spelling’s their call;
I wish to finish my thoughts, if I can;
but the computer thinks for
How can we be so far apart;
from the footsteps we vow to follow?
He has, within, a love filled heart;
we have a pump that is hollow.
He can forgive the vilest sin;
we always dwell on that sinner.
He will allow them to live again;
in forgiveness, we’
Every artist paints for a reason;
for each has a message to convey;
and writers, too, have their season;
when their Master wants his say.
The creator behind each artist’s obsession,
doesn’t hold the brush or a quill;
the Master is sharing a personal expression;
conveying his love
With destiny’s time, we’re not in tune;
for we often hear some people say,
“He’s left this life, far too soon;
because they wished he could stay.
If my life is just marking time;
without any purpose or goal;
if I have no goal, I call mine;
Love’s message is hidden in the thought;
but hate is often the delivery vehicle.
Love describes the entirety that ought;
but hate is delivered by the people.
What can transform the message of Love;
whispered to all, by the Master;
filtered down from the heavens above;
that hate transforms
I’m creating reality with each step I take;
life’s projector is always, on going;
from my successes and every mistake;
my soul’s energy keeps on growing.
I am the book of life on the shelf;
to the energies of Light, refracting;
living the pages, I’m writing
