Man is still very much like an animal though he has a human form
and continues to evolve with the passage of time which is the norm.
He has arrived with the impressions that are of the lower creation
to erase them from his psyche as he moves up to a higher station.
The various races of people in the world give an indication of this
by the way they live and eat or means of survival we can't dismiss.

There's also the observation that some people look like animals
perhaps due to a strong relationship, in past lives, to those in stalls;
a few similarities can be seen in the behaviour and existence
of some people to creatures of a lower form with consistence.
It's likely here that a human soul in the reincarnating phase
is still shedding impressions according to this theory we praise.

However, nature's provided man with ways of progressing higher
developing and cultivating his mind and intelligence to go further.
By overcoming those obstacles which hold him down to the earth
he's able to rise above his lowly origins that come with his birth.
This creative evolutionary push seems to have favored certain people
for we only have to look around in the world regardless of any steeple.

There's also the little known factor of the ages which the earth goes through,
together with the rest of the solar system, that are not obvious to view.
For the earth and the rest of the planets revolve around the sun we know
but what does the sun together with all the planets revolve around and go?
Science hasn't yet found out apart from the center of our milky way galaxy
which is what everything else in it happens to do as well for it's a guarantee.

These ages numbering four last for about twenty four thousand years
as the sun revolves around something greater than itself and so bears
the weight of responsibility for what goes on within its own domain
much like the seasons of the year that on the earth we know to sustain.
For as the sun moves closer* to its center of orbit there's a gradual change
that goes on within the mind of man and his environment of a huge range.

The rise and fall of all those past civilizations is a good indication of this
with the current advancement in technology we're also unable to dismiss.
For we're all going through an acceleration in the acquisition of knowledge
that's being revealed as we move into the present age with all our baggage.
And until we reach the saturation point that may just be a long way off yet
we'll continue to evolve and find things out that hopefully we won't regret.
_________
Notes: *or further away from.

truth be told,
the ticking hourglass will never be our friend.
cos it keeps pushing my milky way
farther away from yours.

somewhere along the way,
you found dharma.
leaving me to waltz on that dance floor alone,
like i did to you, millenniums ago!

back then, i became
poet, philosopher, king and the lord of the universe.
while you stayed behind,
a shy country lass with lotus eyes
pining for my love.

in the quarrels of love and life,
you hid my golden flute
and threw away my loaded dice,
which helped me win
the mundane games of *** for tat.
leaving me now with an inexhaustible quiver of karmas eager to fructify.

as i stand here in a tree pose
regulating my incoming breath,
i the yogi
eagerly await for our galaxies to turn,
perhaps, even collide and kiss some day.

© 2023

When I come back,
What do you figure will I be?
Will I come back at all?

Will I have accumulated the good-boy points to heaven?
Or will I be sent down to hang with Cobain, Jung, and Morrison?

Could I be sent back as a watch?
A Rifle?
A Brick?
I think I wouldn't mind coming back as a bird,
As long as it was somewhere warm.

Upon final judgement,
Will my heart be weighed against a feather,
And if so,
Will the scales tip at all?

Would I be reunited with old friends,
Old pets,
Old family?
If so,
Will I have to search them out?

Could I perhaps,
Be taken upon the back of a winged horse,
Sat at a great hall?
To drink and fight,
Until the final day where the fighting will be no more?

Whatever waits around that final bend in the river,
I hope that it is still many, many bends away.

by this man-made lake
a steady drizzle hums,
the sun, yesterday’s news
as nature’s palette turns green and gray.

staring into the gun metal sky
she nuzzles her hennaed hair
into his gandhian lap,
mesmerized by the pitter patter
she dubs, as tears from heaven.

a bow-shaped stone bridge on the near horizon,
red-eared sliders floating on the water,
the pencil thin architectural skyline,
even the floating melancholy mute swan
beckons monet to rise like the phoenix
and have a second go at whimsical life

but not me,
with a cornucopia of life-scars to show,
and a ticking clock that’s monotonously relentless,
this trip to the crease better be
the last time at bat


© 2022