Most people living on this Earth,
Think they were created at their birth.
But we are, in fact, thousands of years old,
It just that the story was UNtold.
Reincarnation, I assure you, is quiet true,
Death is a tunnel we regularly pass through.
All mention of it was removed from the Bible,
because a Roman Emperor's wife feared libel.
Theodora was her name and,
Prostitution was her game.
She asked Justinian to remove all reference,
He always agreed her every preference.
She wanted the word reincarnation removed,
She didn't want the Karma it would accrue.
So her desire for the fountain of youth,
Has kept the rest of us from the truth.
They could not delete Jesus' words though,
they had to leave that in status quo.
But Jesus recognised Peter as Elijah, Amen!
and said aloud that he was 'Elijah come again'.

Not one of us has, as we put it, ever 'died',
You think I am joking, but I haven't lied.
On the other side, Death is a Joke
When we get up there, they give us a poke!
The minute we are on the astral plane, we laugh so hard,
Doh! To think that all the time, we held a trump card!
An Angel comes to us to meet,
They congratulate us for our amazing feat.
We hear sounds so lovely we want to cry,
We wonder why we were afraid to die.
A Chorus of Angels sing our name,
We realise life was just a 'game'.
We shed our body, like we take off a coat,
and we go with the Angels, up we float.
Higher and Higher we move on up,
We follow the Angel like a little pup.
A loved one we missed appears right now,
This is amazing! 'Holy Cow!'
All our Soul Group who love us so,
Crowd around and over us crow.
A Celebration party has been planned for today
They knew we were coming - Hip Hip Hooray!

Then, we must discuss the life we just left.
We must consider if we had been deft.
We must decide what went right and wrong.
We must face a panel, and sing a true song.
Three Elders in Red will consider our past.
They will take time, it is not done fast.
Everything is done with love and tact.
There is no actual punishment in fact.
Hell does not exist upstairs at all.
We have a good time, we have a ball.
For lessons we did not learn too well,
There are learning halls where you can tell,
by reading the sacred Akashic Record,
how well you did, how well you scored.
All our life was about, my friend,
Was whether we did anger send.
Whether we had Faith and Joy,
Whether we shared or keep the toy.
Whether we understood our Karma,
Whether we were kind to that Llama!
Yes life is all about fun, fun, fun,
Not about money, prestige or a gun.
When we have learnt enough up there,
We often climb back down those stairs!
We choose to come back in another body you see,
You might be your son's son or even an Auntie !!

Bad-as.s poem. Great rhymes too.


To tell you the truth though, you won't like to have me return as my 'auntie'. A worse rugged, ragged and decrepit assemblage of blood, water, bones and tissues you've never seen.

Nice one man