The Cardboard Breadman

Live In The Moment

We’ve been told to live in the moment;
for the now, is all we’re given;
we’re our own, most dangerous opponent;
for often, by pride, we’re driven.

We can’t dwell on all our yesterdays;
and don’t even think of tomorrows;

Living The Dream

How do we characterize life today;
is it a river, flowing; or a stream;
some believe we’re actors; in a play:
others think we’re living the dream;

Consciousness sees an outside kingdom;
a masterpiece designed for exploration;
transformed, into a demonic feifdom;
with demons in

God’s Hologram

Flowers of life, from a garden above;
with the tree of life in its midst;
filled with glorious leaves of love;
God’s children of glory, kissed.

Heaven; the kingdom of perfect thought;
Consciousness; created life’s story;
where righteousness was eternally taught;
where dwelt the King

For God Alone

I feel such love; welling up, inside;
my thoughts have been overrun;
the enormity of it; diminishes pride;
anticipating what’s yet to come.

For enemies; I feel only compassion;
knowing all the guilt that they have;
their love; they felt they must ration;
may forgiveness be

Destiny’s Clock

In the essence of time; all things become;
as tho everthing is contemporaneous;
all energy of consciousness; came from one;
the creation of life was spontaneous.

Creation occurred; like winding a clock;
then time, itself, was set in motion;
the creation, begun; would never stop;
eternity evolved

Conflicting Thoughts

I’m ready to begin another new day;
in the mysterious jungle of life;
hoping the Master will show the way;
to deal with my sorrows and strife.

Tho the Master’s agenda remains hidden;
I still have some thoughts of my own;
a few of my thoughts

The Touch Of A Woman

Age has taught me so much about sorrow;
I find myself in need of a crutch;
something that keeps me alive tomorrow;
I feel the need of a woman’s touch.

We speak of differences; like sex or gender;
some think they don’t mean

The Song Of Life

Life is pure music to the Master’s ears;
its sonata is beauty without rival;
with the thunder of cymbols life appears;
its a symphony, called a life cycle.

Music lends its sound to the beauty of creation;
without it; life is but a stoic picture;