A joke of life, a cruel game,
That we have no choice but to play,
And isn’t it a tragic shame,
That life of ours does often sway
When we’re unsure of the way,
In which to go, in which to look,
In which to search for our own peace
Not having naught, a shame it is,
Until of past we’ve closed the book.
But even then – the future looms
Not unlike savage beast, vile and unknown,
What does it bring and how it dooms
When all our hopes to it are thrown!
We thus become to suffering so prone.
The changes are where future is,
All changes, all’s consumed tomorrow,
For the unknown brings us our sorrow,
And takes as price our precious peace.
The changes bring the suffering,
And with it come both guilt and shame
For failure of uncovering
The purpose of our hateful blame,
Towards our brothers, who are same
Just as ourselves, in mist so lost,
Of such variety in life,
Which brings calamity of strife,
And in the end we pay the cost.
The cost of peace, the cost of love so true,
The cost for our deeds – unconscious as they are,
They still wear us and drag us through
The world of hell, from peace so far,
As we’re forgetting What we are.
For how would we remember love
When we in sin do still believe
And so with sin imagined we do live
Our pure Self seems cut in half.
Cut by our hate, and separation ‘tween the halves
Is strengthened still, through our guilt and fear,
And through attachment to our plans
That we so cherish, hold so dear,
Not letting Truth approach e’en near,
Out of our fear that it’ll expose
The unreality of all
That we have gathered since the fall,
Afraid of our imagined loss.
The tale of loss keeps us apart,
Believing still in gain through loss,
We fight each other, play our part
In ego’s wicked game of the remorse
That we still feel and cherish from across
The boundary of time and space
Which keeps you “better” than another,
Which keeps you separate from brother,
Unrecognized remains the face.
The face of Christ, which can’t be lost,
Which can’t be gained, for there’s no need
For that of which there is no cost,
That which is you – you need but heed
The words that sound how you are freed.
Freed from the pain and suffering
Of this so weary world unreal,
Of all the shame and guilt you feel,
From all the changes world does bring.
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