Illusions
By
Crichton E M Miller 2001
Time measures a heartbeat pounding in Our head.
The blood of distant ancestors flows within Our veins.
It is Our life.
From when We are born in squalling wraps
To when We feel no more
And know We are dead.
And yet be, forever here
And live again in different time.
Wheels and spins the world We've found
In weighty flight around the giving Sun
Seasons pass and rivers flow
Past shaded Tree
Our children grow to have their own
As We have done and those who with Us now
before us did.
Until Our course is run.
What measure may We put upon this place
in which We find Our life?
Drift We, along the measured path of others, mindless, in
Our moment?
Were We made, to follow the calendars of conceited Man.
Clocks to power some dark and distant King
Who is no more and ruled the world in vain.
Only stars exist in silent past
Their long dead light to touch Our eye
Planets spin and the Sun reflects
It's mighty power
On Moon and water,
Night and Day,
and the tears of joy and pain, We cry.
Mighty be The Sun, it is the Force
From which Our body forms
Drives the Cauldron of the Earth
With endless force that shifts and shapes
The ground beneath Our feet.
We eat the Sun through beast and leaf
And sip it down with wine
The clouds that form and rain that falls
Make oceans for a time
They could not exist and nor could We...
For Sun are We.
The Children of the Earth
Know you not that Past does not exist?
The road We traveled is no more,
The path is gone behind Us.
It lives within Our minds.
Test it, test it.
Snap your fingers once,
Put back your hand in time and change the thing you did.
It is illusion.
Is it not?
Where then is hate for the unforgiven wrong?
How can it be that We create
Illusions of the Past that linger on.
Can We deep within Our minds and Soul?
cast out the worms of fear and hate
That divide Us from our Brother
that twist and turn and block the Gate
and cheat Us of the Goal.
Ribbon thin, twixt then and now
And what is soon to be.
Dynamic, shifting universe
Where is that place that's We?
In Our toe or in Our hand?
That surely cannot be.
For they are in the past as well
As I who speak to thee
As All who speak to Me.
Know you not there is no future?
Only potential exists to be.
We think the spell and spell the word
And what We make We'll see.
Carry not the worm of tragic past
To pass to children yet unborn.
For We again shall see with starry eyes
the cycles of the earth and skies
As We return to learn again
And walk the changing path of Now
That is forever gone.
www.crichtonmiller.com
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