My world won’t be the same again;
I couldn’t make it so, if I tried;
I wouldn’t know how to make it begin;
for a little bit inside of me died.
My personal book of life’s pages; stripped;
some chapters inside it were gone;
the book
Hello & Welcome to
The Cardboard Breadman
The Conductor raised his baton;
his orchestra was reality;
preparing to usher in the dawn;
with a sonata of finality.
He defiantly brought it down;
light accenting the cymbals crash;
the Conductor wore his crown;
the river of life made its splash.
Reality; creating a new beginning;
a separate world
One and all, we fear a slow death;
thinking about living in agony;
fear of struggling to get a breath;
and yet, all of it, is pure irony.
Our body begins its downward trail;
the very moment we’re born;
trepidation ensues, as we near death’s veil;
causing much
I still remember a conversation I had;
many lifetimes, far in the past;
and others, too; both happy and sad;
of a future we both thought would last.
We seemed the Master’s perfect pair;
a blend of endless devotions;
we didn’t count on reality’s despair;
and its
Tears, the wonder of all creation;
formed in the Aura’s womb;
healing: the tears’ obligation;
their blossoms coming in bloom.
Toxicity of all poisonous thought;
washed out with the wave of tears;
designed to do; what tears ought;
washing away reality’s fears.
Sadness and sorrow caused their birth;
…What kind of foolishness do we learn;
do others lead us like sheep?
Do we pay for our failure to discern;
must we always learn, and weep?
Everyone drinks from the cup of knowledge;
and there is so much to be learned;
much more wisdom than taught in college;
do
I looked all around and considered;
all of the things money can bring;
the furniture that had been delivered;
but money can’t buy everything.
Once I had bought it; I owned it;
that much was apparent to me;
its not as though I’ve condoned it;
but nothing in
There is that road less traveled;
with weeds and thistle overhead;
where that growth is unraveled;
Oh Lord; please let me be led.
I cannot tell where it’s leading;
much like a jungle of the mind;
and yet, it almost seems pleading;
that I see its completion defined.
I
…