The Essence Of Thought
What I think; is my picture of reality;
my being; ensconced in my thought;
becoming, only what my eyes can see;
and all that my memory has brought.
Though I think that I’d prefer to be a tree;
with branches spreading far and wide;
such isn’t what the Master made me to be;
and, in His thoughts; I abide.
A tree has neither legs; nor arms or feet;
with roots grown deep in the ground;
his love is limited to those he may meet;
in a forrest; not many are found.
A bird, that flies; perhaps would be better;
taking beauty and love; hither and yon;
but, a bird is no match for turbulant weather;
and soon, all his love will be gone.
The Master decided to make me a thought;
for, a man, with free will, can rebel.
Evil conspired against what God taught;
turning earth into a living hell.
The Master planted a seed in the garden;
to grow; blossom; and flower;
the seed of Love; required no pardon;
and Love had unlimited power.
The Master sent Love down to the earth;
to teach man to laugh and to cry;
love then returned to her place of birth;
for Love wasn’t meant to die.
Monty 7/11/23. # 1,675