The End

 

So yesterday I read some philosophies,

Was confused, perhaps afraid,

Today I thought again about the time,

You know, one man’s opinion of starlight

Is another’s personal piece of pain,

Who wants to get stuck as a stick man,

A character in some cosmic play…

A goofball in Icke’s barless prison,

Or a thought that simply went astray.

But then, does all that really matter,

It will all work out in the end,

Everyone knows when you lead

From love and service, a rose smells

Like a rose even if some say it isn’t one,

The sun is always wonderfully warm

On your bare body, your kiss is a kiss,

Is a kiss, and when you follow your

Mind to stillness you know this,

It will all work out in the end,

And you smile all over

Because you know,

There is no

End.

 

Stephen Nesbitt ©

 

 

 

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