The Question
©2015 Rolland G. Smith
Past the days of illusion’s dream
Come rhymes and thoughts of spirit’s truth.
That nothing here we see is real
Despite the eyes that say it’s proof.
So where do mind and body go
To find the essence of our Source
Where truth is told and nothing more
So we can hold an earthly course?
We’ve all been here in form before
As other lives with other names.
Each time we’ve said we’ll grow to love
A promise made to play the games.
My questions not, when do we take
The final breathe and go on home.
It is do we, have that as choice
To end our free-will earthy roam?
Therein lies the Gordian knot
Of tightened thought and consequence.
But when untied with personal choice
No judgment’s made in preference.
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