No House Is A Home
A house that was home; became the past;
I never thought that it’d come to be;
I thought that home was meant to last;
for it had become a part of me.
A place where I scattered toys and clothes;
at a time when
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KNOWLEDGE
Poems about Knowledge
Pilgrimage Of Love
I awaken each day in a search for significance;
while many others plan their vacation;
I look around me, at the infinite magnificence;
considering life an obligation.
There are so many things, we’ve taken for granted;
the lands, the seas, and the air;
always expecting they’
Life Segments
We live many lives; one day at a time;
often, many houses become home;
most are mere projections of the mind;
like the false illusion; of being alone.
Life is a permanent flow of Consciousness;
transforming today into yesterday;
growing into a kingdom of righteousness;
while tomorrow becomes
A Day In The Life
I live part of my life in terror;
of what is to happen next;
then, become a time wayfarer;
living on my past regrets.
Stage backdrops fly by in virtual waves;
life’s scenery, constantly changing;
structures of yesterday, unending decays;
behind, the stage curtain,
A Gift Of Purpose
Perhaps I’ve lived beyond my time;
not becoming who I’m to be;
failed to accomplish my soul’s design;
and, only purpose can set me free.
My body and spirit seem now separated;
with my thoughts floating in air;
no longer that being, the
The Second Time Around
Most all of us seek a second chance;
seeing how life seems to confound;
to show we’ve learned how to dance;
on our second time around.
Some believe that we only live once;
unlike the grasses and flowers;
temporarily, for a season, ensconced;
living, while
The Superficial Life
We each possess thoughts of heaven;
for it was the kingdom of birth;
deep recesses of mind now beckon;
our body, in the sphere of earth.
Energy formations, around us, abound;
granting the illusion of physicality;
tho the illusions of us, are profound;
we’re only pictures
The Silence Of Sound
Does noise occur in vacant emptyness;
when no one is around;
would music, itself, no longer bless;
with none to hear its sound?
We ride the waves of light and sound;
surfing their ebb and flow;
we envision ourselves on solid ground;
for our mind tells