REALITY

We all know that our body gets tired;
for that is the body’s role;
it ports us around; until it’s retired;
taking its lead from the soul.

For the soul is the life of the being;
it plays the needed energy roles;
its thoughts, always hearing and seeing;

Those who speak with loudest voice,
often hold secrets inside;
words they use, by careful choice;
for they have something to hide,

All the days of wine and roses;
are spent during nighttime, too;
sometimes their bravest poses;
are ventured when out of view.

Those with the largest pile of

Why is it that we call them possessions;
they are not things that we really own;
they are subject to stranger’s discretions;
once we die; and our soul goes home.

We don’t, ever, really own anything;
just store; or carry them around.
Temporary, is all the joy they

Many years ago, when the nation was young;
they taught children in a one room school;
all brought together; all ages into one;
it wasn’t the exception; but the rule.

All thoughts interchanged, without exception;
young, and old; and all inbetween;
differing views could all achieve reception;
and all

Please don’t pay any attention;
to what you see in me;
there’s more than one dimension;
than simply what you see.

A depth much deeper than you surmise;
defines what’s really me;
you’ll find that I hold great surprise,
in all I’m born to be.

Death stepped off the end of the earth;
and reentered into life’s garden;
for death was the sign of a second birth;
since God had granted a pardon.

Death led the way into the open air;
with no destination, preplannned;
becoming a part of thought’s nowhere;
Death became

Consciousness is impossible to explain;
tho its memories are usually explicit;
lest we trouble ourselves to complain;
memory is often difficult to elicit.

Memory is an island within the mind;
where past consciousness, resides;
sometimes, being stretched and refined;
for truth seldom lasts, inside.

Memories possess the mind’s definitions;