Poems about Knowledge
The strangest thing, as I sit in my chair;
my mind has drifted much like a cloud;
my body is here; but my mind, over there;
my mind thinking thoughts, out loud.
I most normally walk, one step at a time;
while my thoughts are light-years away;
my mind drifts
I feel uniquely, and totally alive;
a deeper awareness of mind;
consciousness will always survive;
and, by it, life is defined.
We’re directly tethered to the Master;
His protective sphere, we live within;
unassailable, from any and all disaster;
He will fight all our battles, and win.
We accept
…Do there exist, different layers of reality;
realms overlapping, in the same space;
creating an internal-external duality;
with each world wearing a different face?
This multi-faceted kingdom of ancient lore;
is a mere figment, hatched in my mind;
a fantasy, I called Ichabod, may be the door;
where, by accident,
Death is deemed life’s mortal enemy;
many believe they’ll no more exist;
but death, is another form of energy;
not one we should fear, or resist.
Death is merely one of life’s seasons;
like spring, summer, or fall;
none of us knows all the reasons;
but, it
Can a life exist, dually, in two places;
calling both kingdoms their homes;
each wearing very different faces;
while, in between, its spirit roams?
We only know what thought reveals;
and the mind is telling us nothing;
there’s so much more, thought conceals;
we don’t even know if
We’re unable to conceive omnipotence;
unlimited knowledge is required;
nor can we even imagine omniscience;
such understanding, must be inspired.
And yet; both, the Master is said to be;
and we’re simply unable to understand.
How can He transform to physical reality;
mere words of His issued command?
There was a fable; told long ago;
the ruler, an arrogant and foolish man;
knew everything there was to know;
and wore the finest clothes in the land.
Approached by a corrupt deceiver;
he was told of magic material;
when woven by this magical weaver;
made a spectacular garment ethereal.
Still waters are considered peacefulness;
becoming relaxed and profound;
thought, a place to be soothed and blessed;
without troubles or stresses around.
But troubles are what this world’s about;
it’s not some kind of peaceful resort;
in this regard, if you have any doubt;
sorrows will cut your
