Poems about Reality
A sword is a weapon often used for killing;
sometimes when merely fighting duels;
unsheathed, it stands ready, for those willing;
a form of combat, reserved for fools.
In history, it’s a symbol of preparation to fight;
a willingness to risk death; in order to kill;
never really proving
The Mind is a sacred and holy place;
worship is its principle role;
unimpeded, by either time or space.
it’s the sanctuary of the soul.
The mind is, by no means a church;
it’s a deeply rooted connection above.
The Master directs our mind to search;
for truth,
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;
I recall when yesterday was tomorrow;
but, no longer wanted to stay;
so it picked up some luggage to borrow;
and traveled by train, to today.
When yesterday arrived at the station;
today was already gone;
he had left to go on a long vacation;
so yesterday simply moved on.
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;
I feel like someone’s tugging my sleeve;
gently urging me down life’s path;
I can feel it more when I’m sad, or grieve;
and, when I incur someone’s wrath.
When someone tells me a very sad story;
I feel an energy, tug on my heartstring;
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