Tuesday, April 19, 2016

If Then Were Now



Remembering is not like being there.
We have left a long trail of pain and pinpoints of happiness.
Waking up and realizing that once, our future spread out in front of us to infinity
and now it is mostly behind us, is a painful awakening.

Our song is mostly sung.
There was always time for doing the things we just never got around to doing.
We have loved and lost and loved again.
If we all could just know that we are all one.
The differences between us are just illusions.

We all came from nothing and will return to the original I AM, eventually.
Our lives are like boxes of old photographs.
We look and remember but wonder, is that really me?
Was I ever there, doing that?

The faces of all the people we have loved and lost are like scrapbooks in our mind.
We know we were once those people but fewer and fewer still exist.
As the world constantly expands, our world gets smaller and smaller.
It is harder to remember the nuances of the expressions and smells and the sounds of voices.
The footsteps of family moving through the house that no longer exists.

It hurts to know that what few family members that are left, I may never see again.
I pray that the end is not really the end.
I believe that we have all known one another many times in other lives and other places.
Sometimes strangers can seem more familiar than my own family.

I wish I knew more.
I always wanted to know everything.
I want to know the Truth.
We have been spoon fed lies and told twisted tales that shaped our lives and our pasts
into a fictitious picture of what life is really about.

I feel in my heart that things are going to change soon.
Our lives will never be the same again.
What we know as normal will be something totally different than what we know now.
I feel a wind coming from Space that will take us to places we have never been before.

There are more than two worlds here on Earth.
One we can see and another that we just sense but cannot directly experience.
History is about to repeat itself.
I just hope that whoever records it records it truthfully and does not turn it into twisted
and undecipherable gibberish.

Keep your eye to the Sky.

© March 31, 2016 Philip G. DeLoach


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