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
Copyright © Bilal Hb | Year Posted 2011
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