Rising From The Ashes
My life is a flow; first up, then down;
success always had its allure;
now, I’m living the life of a clown;
for nothing in life is for sure.
Life is the flow of a river, forbidden;
a treacherous journey to belief;
truth is the
Poems about Reality
Rising From The Ashes
My life is a flow; first up, then down;
success always had its allure;
now, I’m living the life of a clown;
for nothing in life is for sure.
Life is the flow of a river, forbidden;
a treacherous journey to belief;
truth is the
A Temporary Status
The hardened reality of light,
retreats slowly to vapor,
the day overtakes the night,
gaining the Master’s favor.
Such is the illusion of reality,
it swiftly comes and goes,
this massive mist of duality,
like a river, it flows.
Consciousness; a heavenly realm,
rides on the
Practice Doesn’t Make Perfect
The more we practice; the better we get;
of that; we can always be certain;
perfection can’t be achieved, by sweat;
it lives alone beyond a veiled curtain.
Perfection is a road, where man cannot go;
for it is the Master’s home;
persistance
Selective Memory
All are concerned about loss of cognition;
when somehow we fail to remember;
often it’s caused by a physical condition;
when, in June, we think it’s December.
Sometimes our memory becomes selective;
we think what we want to be thinking;
times, when we’ve lied, we
The Phoenix
The Phoenix is a bird of ancient mythology;
for some cultures, symbolizing reality;
conflicting with the science of physiology;
becoming a picture of immortality.
The Phoenix was to live five hundred years;
burn itself into ashes; and be reborn;
death was the subject of modern man’s fears;
What Price For A Soul ?
For what price would you trade a life;
knowing a life’s purpose and goal;
what is the value of a husband or wife;
and, what would you pay for a soul?
Would you ransom a husband or wife;
or, maybe a daughter or son:
Vacation From Reality
My mind keeps wandering; day to day,
places my body can’t follow,
praying rescue shall come my way,
while, in sorrows, I wallow.
My thoughts enjoy a different place,
devoid of life’s disruptions,
within myself, I feel God’s grace,
without man’s corruptions.
I
…From A Spoiled Tree
We all have become the memories of strife;
mere remnants of human debris;
the spoiled love of both a husband and wife;
rotting fruits, from a spoiled tree.
Born as the children of promise and love;
apples of the Master’s eye;
created in a garden