Passing On

We are the spawn of starlight, born on Earth by means unknown,
to wake up partnered to a meat machine (who thinks it runs the show).
To neutralize this side of us, and turn this fool to stone,
is why we're here. Recoding how we process what we know,

in time creates a richer world view. Things seen from far
by untaught minds, are kin to scales in this metaphor:
some men push a wheel barrow, some men drive a car,
some fly in jets, but smart ones cruise in starships, to explore

the Spirit's sprawling inner universe. Recurrence happens when,
from life to life, one's base design doesn't change or grow.
Knowledge of a kind not worldly, acquired by men
through conscious work, is needed to learn How to know

what must be done. Definite goals, once reached afford the view
that each of us, are part of something vast beyond what mind
can parse. Mental space reclaimed from active watch of You,
(when you're identified), makes room for new and unconfined

flexibility designing your optimal state of Soul.
That which is built in consciousness while here, for good or bad,
plays a meaty part in what's to come. Our willful climb from holes
and ruts, pursuing means that foster knowledge, gives a lad

or lassie, access to a better perch from which to know
veridical curves to shapes we've always thought were gospel.
" There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio
than are dreampt of ...". Willie knew it, Browning would tell

"God abides within you, whatever you may think." If you
believe the Spirit of Existence prowls behind the sky,
and peeps and clucks, at your oh-so sinful ways, it's time you knew,
it just ain't true! You can see for yourself when you apply

the given rules, which turn your thinking parallel,
instead of crosswise to the flow of primal energy.
Flypaper stuck, are those who don't attempt to smash the shell
and cast off Ego's yoke. Limbo's like an endless journey

devoid of scenery, following a plastic carrot to nowhere,
and every wannabe badass, fucks with you along the way.
Intelligence and Consciousness comprise, a royal pair
that when awoken, blend into a Being fit to convey

wisdom and love most meaningful, without stutter or skew.
Joined in this state, is what we're meant to blossom and become.
"Lay up your treasures for Heaven, where moths and thieves can't screw
you blind", or something like that, is the deeper meaning plum

reminding men where of they should place their worth. Nobody knows
the world to come. Our fate is known to none. Be it blackhole doom,
harps and angels, or a better toe-hold on the Infinite that flows
in all, a mindful man would clear out old crap to make room

to engage, whatever lurks beyond the door of death.
If spooked by its finality, Soul's Truth still calls ther shots.
One thing you can be sure, is when you suck that final breath,
It's better if your head is full of pure peaceful thoughts .