A Working Hypothesis

Medicinal scents of my impending demise Morph to chocolate, cinnamon, sweet death-day cake The final images burned into these old eyes Their expressions of consternation and heartbreak Orange glow, I surround them, my body ceases Engulf them gently in the thing they will miss most My embrace opens them, and their grief releases Flesh cages blind them to how we are always close Barest grasp I could attain in my mortal form The most I had was a working hypothesis Why I had to be continuously reborn To shed the veil of material hypnosis Simultaneously, hearts and minds interweave Making a boundless unity, knowledge and love Only over many lifetimes could I believe In this all pervading Godness, not just above Dizzying vista seen sharp, and my choices To where and when I can go , and how, becomes clear Fair new strands of life’s web, strange sounds of new voices To be reborn in other worlds, or remain here? Many higher forms of life, my soul can now be Whole worlds, of themselves conscious, or countless new souls Myriad ways to expand God’s being, love, glory I become a multitude, a divided whole So strange, this is how God grows its own beingness Some of me will fall into darkest nothingness Parts of me will blossom to transcend my wholeness Our perfect imperfection, this loving oneness 5/24/16 © by Author For Contest: Soul Consciousness Sponsor: Catie Lindsey Question: After death, will you have to enter again in another Earth life, and Why? (Among others...) 12 syllables/line