Tag Archive | sail

Definition Of The Soul

Blending Of Spirit

The soul isn’t a mythical entity. It
Is a powerful, purposeful essence. It’s at
The very center of who you are, but don’t think
That you are its entirety. You are but a link
In a huge chain reaction. It’s good to know that.
To its will we must all ultimately submit.

Your soul is enormous. It existed before
You were born and it will exist after you die.
But the you who is reading this and I who write
Are but our personalities. All our insight,
Intuition, and cognition will go bye-bye,
But the soul will remain conscious forevermore.

Every fleet has a mother ship – one ship that knows
Where all of them are going, and it sets the course
And direction for all ships. Life on one ship might
Be unpleasant but on another it’s alright
Yet the mother ship remains a powerful force
In the lives of all ships and their human cargoes.

A magnificent city afloat is the soul
And you’re one of the little boats. Storms may occur
But the mother ship knows why we’re all out at sea.
To stay in line with it is our reason to be.
You’re a ship with free will to do what you prefer.
Follow your inner meaning. It will make you whole.

A Dream Within A Dream

Consciousness Within Consciousness

…And in parting from you now, thus let me avow –
You are not wrong who deem that my days are a dream.
Yet if all hope of sanity has flown away
To some kinder dimension, then what I must say
Is that there’s a much larger and complex regime
That imagines existence into here and now.

Brokenhearted I can’t be, yet somehow I am
Immersed in an enigma of shock and dismay.
If I’m part of existence, where do I belong?
This world has lost its sense of what’s right and what’s wrong.
In a vision or in none, for what do I pray?
Absolute is my feeling that life is a sham.

Of a shore surf-tormented I stand in the roar
As I hold in my hands grains of the golden sand.
How Few! Yet how they creep between my slim fingers
While I weep. As I weep, the wave rhythmic recurs.
Can I grasp with a tighter clasp of my weak hand?
They escape quickly to the sea and are no more.

Many thoughts flood the consciousness. All are the same
In a sea nonexistent with vital context.
They address a reality that can’t be real,
So, I can only go by the way that I feel.
In this pitiless wave I am much less perplexed
About what in a troubled world causes me shame.