Reflections on Spirit Reality

If life is just what it appears
and that which we may test,
then we are just the lonely ones--
looking out between the bars
of bones, and dressed
imprudently in softest armor
spun of flesh.

A spirit may not laugh
at such a spectacle--
may not collapse in tears
as wonder such as this
is contemplated...years
of such illusion form
the phalanx of our refuge,
make our outer gates secure.

The camp is pitched upon
the edge of darkening days.
The loss of sunlight only marks
the end of fading time; one may
crumble it between the fingers
as grave dust, and turn away
to consciousness like reborn youth
inside unending day.

Perhaps we need not turn away.
It may be just remembering
that we are visitors upon the earth,
each one a changing chrysalis
beneath the light of changeless love.
Another metamorphosis is ours,
and ours again to be.
~