Tag: poems on spirituality

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Your True Source is You (Poem)

We live our lives,

Depending on others,

To make us happy,

Because deep down,

We feel scared and frail,

And need approval,

From other souls.

We search for approval,

Through everyone but we,

Because the moment

Someone values what,

We cannot conceive,

We want more,

To escape the longing,

Inside our soul.

The longing becomes unbearable,

Each time we need approval,

We seek outside ourselves,

To bring only, what we can.

We don’t get to the source,

Which is our soul,

If we simply listen,

The answer is within,

The essential calling,

Of our soul.

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The Road to Mastery (Poem)

Through trial and error,

We tough the storm.

The wind blows against our soul,

In this illusionary world.

We don’t understand life,

As we squeeze tight

To be right.

The ideas, that once worked,

Are now expired,

In this illusionary world.

Through trial and error,

We make our stance,

Declare what we know.

The wind blows beneath our feet,

And shakes us deep.

We declare our wants,

More comes against us.

As we make our stance,

And are now sturdy,

In this illusionary world.

Through trial and error,

The wind doesn’t shake us.

As we learn through leaping forward,

Through the laws that govern us all.

The wind remains beneath our feet,

As we make our stance,

In this illusionary world.

Through trial and error,

We stand up straight.

Firm, unwavering, ready to play.

As we acknowledge our ways,

In this created reality,

Where we declare out loud,

And write the script.

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An Angel Ignited my Path (Poem)

When the rock struck me sideways,

Lying face down,

Confused and afraid,

Couldn’t see the daylight.

Dazzled as to where to leap,

Or where to turn,

In my confused altered mind.

But you stood amongst it,

Never blamed,

Nor question,

My reason for being.

Falls, turns and detours

I sympathize the whys,

The reasons for my trial.

Drifting through the motions,

On autopilot senseless,

In utter despair. 

You stood amongst it,

And saw potential, 

When all I saw was judgment,

In my own eyes.

The future was pale,

My intentions scattered,

Through the wall,

With Uncertainties and doubts,

Filling my mind.

As I try to escape my thoughts,

Uncertain,

Of what path may be.

You never relinquished, 

Or ceased to be,

Your very best to me.

Though the time has passed,

And those days didn’t last,

The push served me greatly, 

The rest was history, 

Of my own making.

And I’ll never forget, 

When I’m old and wrinkly, 

An angel from God,

Ignited my path, 

And never ceased to be,

Her very best to me.

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Way Back Home (Poem)

We start on the journey,

Fired up with faith,

Telling ourselves all types of things,

To stay in the game.

Declaring out loud,

We’ll never turn back,

We’re victors and not quitters,

Among the pact.

Then adversities come,

Knocking at the door,

Demanding to give in,

And forget what we know.

Everything can be a mystery,

And a puzzle,

In a deep world,

Of right or wrong.

We grapple with peace,

In a world of love and hate,

Our perspective is damaged,

As we march along in rage.

Let’s lose the self sabotaging lens,

Receive the divine,

And remember our core.

It’s a journey,

Of trial and error,

As we follow our soul.

Intuition and choices,

Delays and detours,

All leading back

To God.

As we contemplate and reflect,

We conclude,

There’s no right or wrong,

Simply experiences, remembering,

And intuition,

To guide us back home.

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Choices From Our Soul (Poem)

Is there a right or wrong?

Or are there simply better choices,

That agree with our soul?

The minute we think, we got it right,

We stumble again, on unknown path.

Because life is expansion,

From the divine,

As we make up the rules,

And stand by its side.

Nothing is static,

A constant motion,

We’re simply moulding,

Life again.

Do we love this life,

Or do we dread the unknown?

Or fear the mountains,

That stand tall,

And never cease to be,

Its terrifying piece.

When we stop and reflect,

We realize there’s no right or wrong,

Simply choices, that guide us back home.

As we stumble, upon the answer,

We realize we were never wrong.

Simple journey,

Simple learning,

Or remembering what we knew,

So we can take this insight,

Into our newfound life,

And shout out loud, to the divine.

Saying we’re born again,

Let’s dream out loud,

In this illusionary world,

Where we think out loud,

And write the script.

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The Hand is Always There (Poem)

You’re silent and drifting away,

Perhaps you don’t recognize,

All the help by your side.

You seclude yourself every day,

Your mind wonders in rage.

There’s more than one approach,

Than secluding yourself in disguise.

Open up,

Explain yourself,

Disclose the thoughts,

Running through your head.

No judgment,

No Truth is to blame,

Just open up,

Let us help you today.

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Face Life and What’s Lurking Inside (Sonnet)

My greatest fears were surfacing,

In a world of reality irrational thinking. 

Held so long so deep inside of me,

Distorted into illusionary space.  

Voices speculating in unfamiliar ways,

As they were forcefully dominating their game.

Leaping out in their own disguises, 

Trying to convince me of heartbreaking lies.  

I acknowledge, it was all my creation, 

That created this illusionary space.

Not wanting to face my world inside,

So I created an escape from human life.

I can see the astonishing correlation, 

Face life and what’s lurking inside. 

 

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Letting Go (Poem)

As before I was searching for meaning,

Through others and approval.

I can’t fathom the belittling,

Through friends,

And peers.

The teacher who would be constantly 

On my case.

About not listening,

And being spaced out,

All day.

Too serious and in my head.

As he made comments,

And mockery,

Without end.

I hated school,

Got mostly Cs,

Just to say I was passing.

Too busy in my own world,

Of music, horse-play,

And band gigs.

Although the words still ring,

Loudly in my ears,

About being stupid and socially weird,

And busy in my own world,

Of depression and fear of my own.

As I contemplate,

The journey and the steep hill,

My resurrection from the pit,

Of disguise and depression,

My self-made misery

Of despair.

Though others simply mirrored back

What I felt.

As I reflect,

On the mountain,

And the dangers,

Of the storm.

It all shaped who I am,

As I molded the clay,

Revived myself from the pit,

Sought myself,

And the divine,

And let go of the past.

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The Soul and the Ego (Poem)

She is insecure.

Although on the outside,

She’s the life of the party,

That everyone loves.

An outgoing personality, 

Attractive and provocative,

She stops at nothing, 

And can get any guy she wants.

However, 

Inside she feels,

Afraid and Uneasy, 

So she puts on an act, 

To avoid revealing herself.

Hiding beneath true feelings, 

In an attempt to portray herself,

Normally among the rest.

She is afraid,

To acknowledge him,

To admit she admires him.

For he doesn’t seem her type,

So she puts on a disguise,

And puts on a show,

Because what matters to her most,

Is her ego, and not her soul.

Although on the outside,

She appears to be happy,

Inside she feels empty and lonely,

Fickle and relentless,

Always trying to avoid, 

The negative chatter and her voice.

So she puts him on hold,

Because what matters to her most is her ego,

And not her soul.

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A Simple Life Process (Poem)

Though we reunite on special days and occasions.

Laughing and catching up on old days.

Some born, some pass away, 

To another world watching over us, every day.

Though we cannot fathom the very day,

Where one will part away, 

To another world, 

And leave our place.

It is this day and age, 

We must accept,

The rules that were set,

When we entered this world.

Body dies but the soul remains.

And what remains is memories, 

That we hold so deep,

Deep in our heart,

Deep in our soul, 

As we rock our child,

And reminisce the joys,

A new treasure,

And the old one dies.

A simple life process of life and death,

Choices and love,

Intuition and failure,

They all lead back to the way,

The destiny and the journey, 

Above all.

Though the process may seem difficult, 

And hard to bear.

And in our mind we cannot find, 

The logic, of loss and grief. 

We’re all on a journey,

Of undiscovered potential.

Some simply forget, 

Then leave this planet before.

Wasted energy,

As we fret the why’s.

And the so called memories, 

That make us cry.

We don’t understand death,

We all return home,

On another journey,

In another world.

A part of us remains,

In this world with our loves.

And another in a dimension, 

That never ends.

We’re all misfits in another sense,

Trying to make sense of this world,

Without end.

But as we are on the front lines,

Living our life,

Making the best,

Of the treachery and zeal.

Lessons are learned, and remembered,

In this chaotic world, 

Of dread or fulfillment.

Perception is grappling, for our attention,

To win its previous,

Lying scheme. 

But doesn’t win,

As we lay the grounds,

And choose the latter,

And not the dread.

The pen is in our hand, 

In this undiscovered land,

Of hope, faith and love.

Of undiscovered potential we have,

A world of greed,

A world of generosity and deeds.

Though the choice is ours, 

When we remain stagnant, 

We wake up asleep, and forget the dream. 

Though the choice is ours, 

To our awakening, 

Let’s choose life,

And wake up at eighty,

With dreams never shattered,

And lives never wasted.

Only fulfillment, 

And love that stays.

Let’s not forget, 

The reason for our arrival, 

And the reason for our departure, 

When we’re old and wrinkly,

And we shall say, 

Let’s die in peace,

Our mission is fulfilled.