Reincarnation Poem by David Taylor

Into being walks the morning
holds the hand of all that slept,
down the pathway of creation
beside a stream of love it's set.

For some it is a rocky mountain
with falls and pools both fast and slow,
and for others winding rivers
where their footsteps wandering go.

All in one direction going
from the highest each begins,
towards the lower plains of plenty
where lies the harvest for each within.

And as the morning turns to evening
banks are lowered, waters run,
slower, wider, gently guided
toward the source of setting sun.

Each river on its courses flowing
finds the swelling ocean deep,
where each wavelet clasps its sister
and each traveller gladly greets.

Seeming separate paths we tread
along the Nile or Ganges delta,
Mississippi, Yangtze, Volga
all arrive at one great ocean
all with this same earth for its bed.

In the night time without our knowing
we rise up in highest cloud,
which path this time is for my going
and which river is for showing
what was missed the last time round?