What a Very Strange Game!

I know this might sound bizarre,

But we aren’t as we think we are,

Individuals apart, ‘you’ and ‘me’,

As it appears to us to clearly be.

The wise insist that in reality

There exists no separate entity,

Beings and things each distinct

(As we perceive by our instinct).

Are, then, all entities truly the same,

Varied forms all donned for a game,

A game that The Great One plays

(For, very strange are all His ways)?

Maybe through His mind He projects

Seemingly many beings and objects,

He Himself assuming all these forms

And through each a set role performs.

Is all of existence nothing but He?

I’d like to think that this must be,

For only thereby could I explain

To myself all the joy and pain,

The wisdom and the stupidity,

The kindness and the cupidity,

Error, truth, sorrow and mirth,

Right, wrong, death and birth,

 Good, evil, and peace and war,

Hate, love, and all things more

With which this vast world is filled.

Maybe it’s all just as He has willed.

Perhaps all such things that we name

Are done by Him as part of His game,

And not just that, but that this also

(So may say some who truly know):

All done to Him, for He being all,

Making these on Himself befall!

Ah! What a strange game He plays

As He His mysterious will displays!