Past two
By BoJenn
Now and then, a soul may slip
through the grasp of shadows,
escaping the punishments carried
by the dark currents of human thought.
But no one escapes forever.
For karma is not vengeance,
it is the echo of cause and consequence,
woven into the fabric of time.
Truth waits,
sometimes hidden for centuries,
until the veil loosens,
and what was buried rises,
as time itself restores the balance.
Ghosts of the past return,
laying unpaid debts upon the table once more.
If not in this life, then in another—
for nothing is lost,
and all is gathered in the unseen ledgers of time.
This is the cleansing of the cosmos,
the silent machinery of the matrix.
Forests burn,
creatures perish,
oceans sicken,
and humanity breathes its own undoing.
Yet the Earth turns the soil of itself,
churning what is ruined into seed,
ferment into blossom,
wasteland into renewal.
The fractal universe unfolds,
devours, purifies, and awakens.
Waters clear, air refreshes,
and mankind rises—
briefly wiser, briefly brighter—
until the wheel turns once more.
For karma is the season of all things,
the eternal harvest of the matrix,
where endings feed beginnings,
and beginnings wait their turn to end.
We are the karma of our own creation.
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Just Another Day
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