REALITY

What if life were a vacant lot;
no grasses or trees abound;
a surface made of igneous rock;
and no life within it, found?

Trees and flowers; only a dream;
and birds; mere imagination;
nothing at all; fit reality’s scheme;
for Thought had gone on vacation.

No rivers existed;

The face I saw in the mirror;
was unfamiliar to me;
and the voice others could hear,
was strange; who could it be?

The book of life; turned movie;
renders photos of us to see;
and it certainly might behoove me;
to believe it’s a picture of me.

In

How precious can it ever be;
that marvelous gift of sight;
enabling each of us to see;
a meadow of sheer delight.

The sun nearly blinds the eyes;
to announce a brand new day;
a moon and stars light the skies;
to help us find our way.

Beauty, around us

How precious can it ever be;
that marvelous gift of sight;
enabling each of us to see;
a meadow of sheer delight.

The sun nearly blinds the eyes;
to announce a brand new day;
a moon and stars light the skies;
to help us find our way.

Beauty, around us

We were created with freedom of choice;
by an omnipotent, omniscient Master;
but faced with another demonic voice;
the choice we made, was disaster.

With freedom, comes responsibility;
with kings, more of the same;
led by self appointed nobility;
the servants get all the blame.

We were created free to

The Master was emphatic that we not judge;
declaring Perfection should throw the first stone;
on that occaision; no one would budge;
and the sinner was left standing alone.

Curious, how little we’ve absorbed his word;
given so very many lifetimes ago.
His modern followers seem not to have

I feel like I’ve reached the end of the road;
there’s nothing else for me to write.
I’m still weighted down by a heavy load;
with no battles remaining to fight.

Slowly I’m trudging through each day;
my efforts have become merely token;
I’m seeking