walk the talk
Recognising this form is dust,
an urn shaped from Mother Earth’s crust,
enlivened by the touch of God,
we feel each heartbeat as love’s thrust.
To get to the source, heart is thawed,
that thus by giving love our nod,
in stillness we get to the source,
gentling touch, as conscience does prod.
As life then charters its own course,
soul ascends without use of force,
revealing that life’s but a dream,
where we repay debts through remorse.
Ego spawns desires, then thoughts stream,
pursuing which, we let off steam
but come what may, we’re doomed to fail,
because things are not what they seem.
The code of love is penned in braille,
that even the blind may set sail,
going way beyond time and space,
where dark fears no longer assail.
One with oneness, invoking grace,
steps towards heaven we retrace,
by our soul’s choice to vaporise,
that lower mind we thus deface.
Wonderstruck each morn at sunrise,
witnessing each breath in surprise,
clear light dawns, even as we yawn,
whence transformed as light, ego dies.
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