Our True Incarnation

Life is imposed By a great power, we suppose Not something we chose Just a thing we compose Petals shrivel the rose Blood runs down the nose Gravity on all things is imposed And eventually we are all deposed And unlike the ones who arose At the end of it all, we will remain forever disposed Put away in an endless doze Life, Death, Solitude and Resurrection. But as the material decomposes To our real selves we are interposed Dressed in our spiritual clothes A life this time we truly chose And as the fleshy part is inherited by crows We will be elsewhere, with nothing to oppose No sin, because it is unnecessary No kin, a new hierarchy No one to ignore us None to bore us Only a rejuvenating vibration In a new life, our true incarnation