Where All Flowers Grow
I can sense thoughts in the vacuum of space;
swirling around in my mind;
ideas and concepts for my mind, to embrace;
of how this world was designed.
It feels, I’ve entered a new form of reality;
a dream world; somewhat surreal;
it’s as tho it’s a separate realm of duality;
thought; devoid of sound and feel.
Life seems a dream; even when I’m awake;
death is the only true sleep;
my thoughts quivering; like an earthquake;
I’ve sown; what I now reap.
There’s a certain emptiness; when I’m alone;
past memories make me cry;
shadows whisper: It’s near time to come home;
for each has a time to die.
I have entered the realm of contemplation;
studying the past works I’ve done;
my thoughts travel to life’s foundation;
knowing I and the Father are one.
For, all life comes from the Master’s energies;
in the beginning; was the Master, alone;
death is culmination of all our life’s synergies;
restoring our soul to heaven’s home.
Until then; death remains a distant shore;
to which all our lives must flow;
I entered a world of thought, once more;
earth is where the flowers grow.
Monty 11.4.25. # 3,039