LOVE

Life had its beginning as a babbling brook;
growing in size, it became a river;
life’s Author had completed life’s book;
the perfect gift; from the perfect giver.

Eventually, it all emptied into the Ocean;
and the river of life had become a sea;
in spite of the

Is Thought the author of life’s book;
does he have its final say?
Maybe our eyes should take a look;
shouldn’t they have some sway?

If we can touch it; isn’t it real;
doesn’t touch answer the question?
We can’t describe it, from its feel;

An energy force surrounds, completely;
enveloping the body; outside, and within;
not visible to most; to others, discretely;
a blueprint for our physical life to begin.

This energy is the true power that’s there;
creating the body was its first role;
and, all should become totally aware;
that Consciousness

“Don’t let your heart be troubled,”
wise words, from the Master’s lips;
our hearts are merely energy bubbles;
His wisdom was more than quips.

For the heart can’t be troubled, anyway;
for, within the body, a heart’s confined;
only with the physical, does it have sway;

Life is an empty canvas you paint;
at least that’s what some feel;
such thinking seems a bit quaint;
but, how do we know it’s real?

Others think life’s a book that we write;
but, isn’t that just more of the same;
we, who scarcely know

All of life came out of an energy collage;
an intricate patchwork, made life’s birth;
God sent Light down, as a rainbow corsage;
promising, never again, to flood the earth.

Consciousness was the sum of God’s energy;
guarded by the Cherubim’s sword;
in a garden created by