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I Am Not Really Crazy And You Are Not Really A Reflection

Will we return to another dream?
After we are gone will anyone care?
Who will re-member us if we are not there?
Finding ourselves here in a place called human
We discover our selves, with a question for few men
“What or why am I?”
The universe chuckles and says you are God.
Of course few understand the words if they can hear them at all.

Our time shared in perceiving, reflects the thoughts of ancient beings.
What if and what happens, questions of a satisfied existence with time to burn.
Who are we if not those who dream? Can we not be our thoughts?
For some like me, the awake time is my dream, filled with wonder and awe.
Sleep time is for being the me I am, safe from harm.

The world goes round and round, while we talk and walk the way we know.
Inside each of us is a little precious stone. It goes by many names.
The more personal call it me. I think alone it frets and complains.
Shared together these stones can be used to start a fire or send a clue
Finding ones to share can be a life time of misses and moves
It always works out best to let the universe choose.
No reason to hope nor to cry. We are all all together all of the time.

Deep inside, the little stone, I call my own, that listens so well
My dearest friend of ever and then, be well inside, feel held alive
Each touch a sacred reverence, each moment a love divine.
So it is with me and time, a little stone, a me in mine.
Its so nice to know not everyones mad, nor good, nor even bad.

I am grateful to know those moments of when, the universe smiled and life began
A glimpse of paradise, eternity in love, a place of ever light, to see our stones ignite
Our little stones polished into sparkling gems focus the light and love
We create a hole in space and time. No distance, no need to run or shove.

Every now and then an event occurs that never happened before.
A singularity of sorts, that can open new and perhaps strange doors.
The event began many years ago and is finally reaching its peak.
Gather round us those we care, awaken all who want to share.
There is a party coming soon. The birth day of the new moon.

I love to share myself. Its an odd pleasure perhaps.
I grew up believing that God was real and then one day God died.
I tried and tried to resurrect God but failed in so many ways.
Once upon a time I felt the presence of omnipotence
Who I asked is God? The reply profoundly clearly said “You”
I took that to mean that the voice in my head was all just pretend
That is until I met you. It was so long ago that even universes can not keep track.

We met quite by accident.
One day while peering into my stone, I thought you were a reflection
I still not sure but its better than being alone. I developed words and spoke them
I wasn’t sure if you heard them so I tried in many ways.
I asked myself silly questions.
Were you still there if I wasn’t looking?
Could you see me?
Was I truly alone?

In this world of things and stuff, I travel with those who think like me.
Conscious folks of human kind. We are all working the daily grind
Polishing our stones until sublime. It’s quite a trip to see who is on the other side.
I am sure it must be you. Perhaps if I stopped thinking I might hear your mind.

We have been together you and I. Since the time I first saw you in my stone.
And over the years I have talked with you, sharing my all, my very self.
As I polished my stone, I could see more clearly your shape and form.
You looked a lot like me. I wondered, can reflections talk back?
I held my stone close to my heart. I love you.
It was better than being alone.
And you are always there, ready to hear my stories and thoughts.

To all of life I proclaim, this day be given to self and me
Share your stone and you will see, a polished stone works best for me,
You will see past eternity. It takes some practice and discipline.
A good story helps keep the focus within

Some where, some time, a very close friend of mine
Traded a story for a cup of time
I thanked my friend and began to savor the time
This would be the last time, I heard myself say
No sense coming back its all the same any way
I imagined a reality filled with people and animals and all kinds of stuff
Time was good for that. It grew and prospered.
I loved that. I nurtured and cared for the reality as though my child
This time will be different. I am sure of that. I still had half a cup of time left, imagine that.
I wasn’t coming back. I was detached in some ways because of that. It didn’t matter anymore
When its over its over, imagine that.

The reality shimmered and glowed, it was beautiful and exquisite, mesmerizing and cryptic
It was different all the same. I took another sip and watched millions of years fly by.
Yes, it was certainly there, would it be possible to communicate this time?
How long should I wait? Just a few sips remained. A reality takes time or you go insane.
I jumped in one day, guessing it might be time. Imagine my surprise when I met you the first time
Time sure gets into everything. As the reality begins to fade I take another sip and realize its the last.

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I Am Not Really Crazy And You Are Not Really A Reflection by 


Whatever is, was made of Stuff no matter what its name. God and Stuff are all the same. How is it that humans, a chemical factory with electrical discharges, can talk, can think, and can imagine themselves not God? Seems rather awed to me. In the Beginning then was it God and Thee?

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