New World (Part 8) – A Poetry Journal

4-25-22 – 1:19 p.m.

There needs to be divine justice for the world to make sense. Otherwise, our lives are meaningless, and the wicked get away with everything. I saw glimpses of redemption in my father’s face before he died. There were shards of light in his dark eyes that shined amid the hazy, drug-induced stupor.

There’s a part of me I don’t recognize. It’s the part I repress and push down; it comes bursting forth sometimes. The collective unconscious is very real, no matter what you may think. We are not blank slates, and we’ve lived many lifetimes before this one. Each soul is reincarnated and recycled.

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Reborn (a poem)

This birthmark on my back is a mark I carry

from body to body – I die, am reborn

in another time, but my soul remains the same –

forever after the same truth, relentless in pursuit +

snared in masses of mankind + the death-march of progress

toward blood-soaked extinction or utopian dream

(Photo by Majid Rangraz on Unsplash)

Note: This poem was inspired by a theme in the novel, Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell. It’s a terrific book and I highly recommend it!