Many Lives

As I sink back in time, as my spirit takes flight,
I see things that are strange, things at first don't seem right.
I see things as they were, back in time; back to Rome..
it is strange, yet so safe, because my soul's not alone.

I see Egypt in pieces, I see water and gold;
I feel someone is with me, and that soul's very old.
As I 'dream', I see water; liquid gold, tinted blue...
I feel sadness, and heartache, yet there's happiness, too.

The moon shines so clearly, glowing, burning each night;
stars that cover the ages, stars that shine with the light.
I see farmland, and pastures, I know work, I know pain...
I'm so close now, to nature, I connect with the rain.

As the decades slip by, as the centuries turn,
as I learn through this life, is it the past that I yearn?
Why the words come so swiftly, I only can guess...
along, somewhere, in time, as a poet I was blessed.

I sense animal presence very strong, and so true...
like a cloak, in the winter, covering all that I do.
The creatures stay with me, I feel one with them, too...
we are melded forever with compassion renewed.

The pictures move quickly, as they race through my mind...
if I linger too long somewhere, the next scene's left behind.
I must follow them quickly, I see horses and dust...
I've known weighty decisions, I've known hate and mistrust.

Now I see with a clearness, fire's flames licking high...
I've known a total devotion that won't be denied.
Pictures, feelings, emotions, flashing past, then they flee;
like the tides racing in, they gently flow out to sea.

I see dolphins around me, with the moon shining soft.
as I gaze at the stars, my soul's taken aloft.
I can see golden flowers, daisies laden with dew;
earthen pots holding potions, many cats live there,too.

I've known water, and fire, I've known pleasure and strife;
but the art of compassion is what I learn in this life.
As I drift through the ages, I feel people I know...
their bodies are different, but you can't hide the soul.

We all go through the paces of learning in life;
what changes is perception, and how we handle strife.
Soon the pictures start fading, soon I 'see' nothing more...
but it won't be too long when I again, go through that door.

The bars of a prison leave a lasting impression;
as the pictures all fade, there ends my regression.