The Cardboard Breadman

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

Home is where the heart is found;
at least that’s what they tell;
that’s not oft where we’re bound;
and not the place we dwell.

Our physical body longs for home;
but that’s not all we are;
the energy soul longs to roam;
and travels wide

I have a connection to somewhere;
there’s nowhere I’d rather be;
and I will quite willingly declare;
somewhere has an affinity for me.

Somewhere is the place I was born;
and somewhere is where I will die;
thinking of somewhere I tend to mourn;
and somewhere just makes

I lay in bed, wide awake;
then lapsed into a dream;
sublety, did awareness take,
dissolved my conscious stream.

I found myself in another world;
my mind, in high elevation;
a new reality; itself, unfurled;
with no line of demarcation.

I don’t recall a mental leap;
that sent me

Reality is a constantly flowing stream;
within it, all life is imparted;
carrying each fiber of the Master’s dream;
it’s where creation started.

Flowing downward; a virtual river;
draining Eden of all of it’s flood;
a perfect gift; from the perfect giver;
enhanced by the Master’s