Poems
THEME/S
Far behind the senseless dustings
Every day accumulates,
Rags of thoughts and shreds of willings
Tattered by our darkened fates,
Spinning, weaving, shuttling through
Old cobwebs of our Karmic rooms,
Arachne impudences hung
Upon the golden spirit's looms;
— Far behind those dusty veilings,
Untouched, unseen, a Presence dwells,
A purity that heals all being,
The secret Word within our spells.
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