The Loves Of God
We’re sons and daughters of God, multiplied;
the personification of his eyes and ears;
it was out of his love; that our Master died;
cleansing our souls and wiping our tears.
This life is an illusion; a metaphor of reality;
once cast down from heaven above;
created out of thought’s projected duality;
we’re embros of the Master’s love.
We are the projection of God’s intention;
the children of eternal consciousness;
death is the season of Gods’s intervention;
pruning life’s trees into righteousness.
We were the seed in the garden of eternity;
planted to become fruitful and multiply;
all of us were to be life’s ward of maternity;
deciduous trees, never really die.
We were all promised a season of growth;
interspersed with a season of death;
consciousness to become, to God betrothed;
love had given life its breath.
Like the tree, in the midst of Eden’s garden;
we were created to bloom and grow;
God’s love, vacates any need for a pardon;
life was created an ebb and flow.
We’ve spent lifetimes in seasons of regret;
loving and learning when to cry.
Love was the life; that the Master beget;
and the loves of God shall never die.
Monty 4.4.25. # 2,714