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December 29, 2020 2 min read


Religions diverge but tell the same story—

Heaven and hell exist on this plane,

As frames of mind directing the movie

Revealed by life’s mirrors in different ways.

The veil lifting higher at every stage…


It was you, firsthand, feeling it all

And you watching all the hours pass by,

But was it you who didn’t let you fall

Or the cosmic glue creating blue skies?

Truth eludes illusion’s slaves who don’t ask why.


Some will say “I did it, yeah just me—

I put in the hours I made those leaps”

But would progress come to be

Without silent guides—what happens to peace?

If not for intuition’s flame, life would cease.


Lost on the shadow path, no one to blame—

Guided to fear through the illusion of self—

Truth sacrificed seeking comfort, fortune, fame.

Surrender gifts for the insurance of wealth,

This false promise is purpose on dust-bound shelves.


Fear is the wall so envision a door…

Free-will flows on the other side, so close,

What keeps capable feet glued to the floor?

Seduced by convenience—a lethal dose—

From serpents, disguised in shepherd’s clothes.


See the issue with ‘God-fearing’ man?

Assuming we live separate from source

Creates markets for rational plans

To pacify sadness, while praising “work,”

In systems we’re told to obey, of course.


Separate selves seek praise as power,

Conditioned to believe its path brings wealth.

Mold spreads under soil wilting flowers,

As dark paths thrive in shadows, draining health.

Step to the light to free the higher self.


Old habits die hard; cliché, but true.

Trained to believe life is competition,

Old habits cling to the former you.

Some days so clear—authentic vision—

Others diluted by defensive decisions.


Separation grows, though not inherent—

Creative souls breaking molds, becoming light—

Those gifted children born to fearful parents.

Deceit’s distortions cling to mind’s night,

‘til awareness shifts to discovery’s sight.


Feel these words in all that cross our sights—

I am that I am—A phrase, or a key?

Of what’s behind the curtain of this life,

So that someday we may come to believe,

Though different, all are the fruit of one tree.


No white-haired sage on a throne in the sky;

Dark matter, God, ether, the unseen:

A single, creative force—light of every eye.

Each atom, each cell, ev’ry human being,

What was always there, always complete

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