I used to think that yesterday’s gone;
but now, I believe I know better;
all our yesterdays, continue to live on;
like an old, worn, donated sweater.
Time is made up of unlimited dimensions;
a part of us continues, moving ahead;
retaining the past, is the Master’s intention;
when all of the present becomes dead.
A thought, or sound, takes you there;
all memory links to a reality past;
you travel, in thought, to another where;
and discover that reality still lasts.
It’s much like a book, you’ve read before;
stacked on a library shelf;
that book remains; you can read it once more;
for it contains a part of yourself.
You may go to the shelf; and get life’s book;
revisiting any stage of your life;
leaf through all memories or take a look;
and see both, happiness and strife.
We think we live in a physical reality;
but nothing truly solid can be found;
all are illusions comprised of energy;
even man was made from the ground.
Illusions of celluloid, cast by the Light;
all dreams remain somewhere;
from the One who made Day from Night;
The Father who will always care.