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The Cardboard Breadman

Life

Life is the energy of every day;
the Author of the book;
Director of the play;
and all that creation took.

Reality is what you make it;
it’s all within your mind;
and no one else can take it;
it’s by yourself defined.

Created by your very thought;

Infinity

What do we call a straight line;
does it ever have an end;
how, then can we such, define;
if it ends just where it begins?

Could a straight line, a circle be;
it certainly has not an end?
Can someone possibly answer me;
their mathematics to defend?

Does a

Two Ships

Two ships in the night is what we were;
though passing; aware of each other;
with thoughts of love; our menu de jour;
such secret passions, we’d discover.

Each of us thought of our life alone;
unaware our thoughts were matched;
dreaming the other would share a home;
and

The Wisdom Of Prayer

Wisdom is a form of energy;
like oil, hidden deep in the ground;
it’s mined in ways we cannot see;
for it’s thought energy all around.

We all think we can study and be wise;
but that isn’t really the way it is;
for wisdom oft remains

Thought

Thought is the wind, beneath my sails.
He’s the sunset that happens each day.
He’s the composition, all reality entails;
and reality’s when Thought’s in his way.

Thought decided that the sky was blue;
and the ocean, he said, should be wet;
He also created each

Thought Energy

Invisible balloons are floating by;
a seemingly endless number;
no explanation is given for why;
all knowledge they seemed to encumber.

No one can see them at all so it seems;
perhaps they are not really there;
floating consciousness; just like dreams;
even though we’re oft unaware.

They’re

Time Flies

Time is the eraser of yesterday;
the creator of a new day as well;
time is thinking of tomorrow, today;
and all futures as best we can tell.

Time can change all events;
for him, it is all child’s play;
he’s never held in suspense;
he can merely

Time Creates

Today is the future’s yesterday;
but today flows into tomorrow.
Tomorrow is the cemetary of today,
encapsulating all of its sorrow.

We think the world remains the same;
that nothing much will be changed.
And so we’re unwilling to accept the blame;
when our whole world has been

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