Poems about Reality
In reality, I’m just a mind;
a conscious, awareness being;
to my body; temporarily assigned;
my soul: that body, overseeing.
My soul was cast as a seed;
transformed; fashioned by Light;
tending to all of my need;
thought became my sight.
Hands and feet are mere illusions;
the physical
Sorrow rides in on a gentle breeze;
I’m uncertain as to his role;
much like a form of mind disease;
infecting my thoughts and soul.
How can memories, floating on air;
effect the thoughts on my mind;
or tragic thoughts, still be there;
by which, my emotions; defined?
Are
…The butterfly; the metaphor of mankind;
he wasn’t always able to fly;
his current incarnation was refined;
to get there; he first had to die.
A caterpillar; his first incarnation;
crawling everywhere he’d go;
just like every baby’s inclination;
and both of them moved very slow.
A
…I am nothing more than a cowlick;
on top of the head of mankind;
standing straight up, like a stick;
as others lie down, more refined;
To say, that in a crowd, I standout;
is a most obvious conclusion;
my hair wants to scream and shout;
signifying it’s delusion.
He has opened the Veil to Wisdom;
wide open for everyone to see;
shattering any need for a schism;
gaining knowledge, that sets all free;
Why cannot everyone see it;
it’s clear as possibly can be;
so very few seem near it;
why is it apparent to me?
We
…Planted as a seed; it was given its role;
designed to grow and become;
not knowing what be its ultimate goal;
to someday be joined to the One
When it was a sprout, fresh from the ground;
it was much different than nearly all others;
it didn’t blend in
From a realm well beyond our sight;
we were transferred as babies below;
rebeling above, as the children of Light;
there was no other place to go;
The lower kingdom is evil’s home;
a place where we’re to learn;
sent there, for a season to roam;
to gain
I open my scrapbook most every day;
viewing its pictures of every kind;
exposing its memories that always stay;
for it’s the scrapbook of my mind.
There’s not a physical scrapbook involved;
the picures are scrolling across my mind;
none of my past failures can be resolved;
to
