We’ve been told to raise up a child,
in a way pleasing to the Master;
implying, on their own, each are wild;
and in need of a personal pastor.
Some have taken it almost a threat;
if anything’s wrong; they’re to blame;
leaving many parents, living in
2024 posts in
REALITY
Poems about Reality
I find myself struggling to find purpose;
for what my life is to be about;
but, reasons seem reluctant to surface;
and I find I’m turned inside out.
Some days, I feel that I’m close to knowing;
that the answer, appears ready to surface;
and yet, then, while
Love is the oxygen that empowers the soul;
when inhaled, it makes life worth living;
a deeper connection to the Master, its role;
it’s far less about taking, than giving.
It’s the soft gentle breeze, in the heat of the day;
and the passionate kisses, warming each night;
God has some wisdom He wishes to share;
but, He has chosen a fool to write it.
He could have chosen anyone, anywhere;
why would He choose me to confide it?
He could have selected a magical wordcrafter;
a spellbinder, guaranteed to catch your attention;
or sent down a wizard
Love comes about, as a tenuous breeze;
commanding very little attention;
suddenly asserting itself, like a sneeze;
its revealed, from another dimension.
What is the cause of such mutual affection;
is there some deeper connection of minds?
Overcoming all our basic fears of rejection,
it seems a cornerstone of divinity’
How does wisdom, differ from truth;
don’t both, simply express the same?
Truth is knowledge; Wisdom, its root;
bound up together in the Master’s name.
Wisdom is knowledge and understanding
fitting together, like hand in glove;
indwelling the one who’s commanding;
to rule with the wisdom of
Birthed in perfection, we became proud;
seeking to enhance our growth of power;
joining evil, while wrapped in a shroud;
not allowing perfection to flower.
Often, dishonesty creeps into our midst;
bringing about a loss of trust;
some, like Judas, are frauds, we’ve kissed;
but love, isn’t replaced,
What precisely is consciousness;
and why does it come and go?
It’s a secret for science to address;
for nobody seems to know.
We think that it’s gone when we sleep;
but that isn’t true; it’s still there;
still serving it’s purpose; tho hidden, deep;