Wisdom is a form of energy;
like oil, hidden deep in the ground;
it’s mined in ways we cannot see;
for it’s thought energy all around.
We all think we can study and be wise;
but that isn’t really the way it is;
for wisdom oft remains
1869 posts in
REALITY
Poems about Reality
Thought is the wind, beneath my sails.
He’s the sunset that happens each day.
He’s the composition, all reality entails;
and reality’s when Thought’s in his way.
Thought decided that the sky was blue;
and the ocean, he said, should be wet;
He also created each
Time is the eraser of yesterday;
the creator of a new day as well;
time is thinking of tomorrow, today;
and all futures as best we can tell.
Time can change all events;
for him, it is all child’s play;
he’s never held in suspense;
he can merely
Today is the future’s yesterday;
but today flows into tomorrow.
Tomorrow is the cemetary of today,
encapsulating all of its sorrow.
We think the world remains the same;
that nothing much will be changed.
And so we’re unwilling to accept the blame;
when our whole world has been
If I could only roll back the tides of time;
before all those mistakes I’ve made;
perhaps, I could experience love, sublime;
instead of becoming reality, decayed.
Does time actually have an ebb and flow;
does it speed up and slow down?
Does it have a special place to
How can reality be erased,
simply by the passage of time?
Can feelings we have, be defaced,
eroded into decline?
Erosion may wear away layers of land;
water can desolve physical matter;
are thoughts subject to erosion’s command;
and love becomes a victim to shatter?
Is energy diminished in
…Like every journey, it began with thought;
nowhere else did it even exist;
creating for ourselves all things that ought;
from which all creations persist.
The term “journey” implies we travel;
but, where in our minds can we go;
reality’s truths begin to unravel;
when we realize that it
I’ve lived a thousand lives or more;
in every conceivable way;
dreams and books; and peace and war;
during both night and day.
Each life I lived; was a symphony;
and I became its conductor;
some lives were lived in infamy;
with God as my instructor.
For how could
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