PASTLIVES

I question everything and everyone more now than I did before the truths and the realities of all the lives I have lived with some regret that there were those whom I should have forgiven, for they were only trying to show me the way on a different path that was not meant to for me connect the stars in the sky and let me see for myself.

I tell you every damn time that this happens. I have been here before, and we had the same conversations. We cried the same tears, asking why we were. I lived, I died, and I came back to continue this story that needs to be told. I am never just a body but a soul.

Yesterday, I had a great debate about life after death and what happens when you take what you think is your last breath. Do you see colors? Is there a heaven or hell? Into which one did I fall? Did Lucifer or god answer that call?

I see so many places that I have never been to, and I see pictures of myself, and I do not recall ever looking or speaking that way. Some people talk to me like they have known me all their life or mine, but they are much older than me. They say we wish we met you when we were your age, but we have been caught in a cage. You are like an eagle who flies free.


Are these memories or dreams of seeing all my lives and deaths pass me by? Am I trapped in a box trying to get out? How many times must I tell this story? As no end just continuously begins I am constantly being asked to draw a picture of what i saw, but i am no artist stick figures, and clouds are the only theme I can draw