A Working Hypothesis
Medicinal scents of my impending demise
Morph to chocolate, cinnamon, sweet death-day cake
The final images burned into these old eyes
Their expressions of consternation and heartbreak
Orange glow, I surround them, my body ceases
Engulf them gently in the thing they will miss most
My embrace opens them, and their grief releases
Flesh cages blind them to how we are always close
Barest grasp I could attain in my mortal form
The most I had was a working hypothesis
Why I had to be continuously reborn
To shed the veil of material hypnosis
Simultaneously, hearts and minds interweave
Making a boundless unity, knowledge and love
Only over many lifetimes could I believe
In this all pervading Godness, not just above
Dizzying vista seen sharp, and my choices
To where and when I can go , and how, becomes clear
Fair new strands of life’s web, strange sounds of new voices
To be reborn in other worlds, or remain here?
Many higher forms of life, my soul can now be
Whole worlds, of themselves conscious, or countless new souls
Myriad ways to expand God’s being, love, glory
I become a multitude, a divided whole
So strange, this is how God grows its own beingness
Some of me will fall into darkest nothingness
Parts of me will blossom to transcend my wholeness
Our perfect imperfection, this loving oneness
5/24/16
© by Author
For Contest: Soul Consciousness
Sponsor: Catie Lindsey
Question: After death, will you have to enter again in another Earth life, and Why? (Among others...)
12 syllables/line
Copyright © Tom Quigley | Year Posted 2016
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