Poems of Narad

When...

July 10,1970

When the far calls near and the sound is heard
Of silent songs in tones of gold,
In tireless rhythms, rapture's dance,
The one who treads divine with feet unscathed
The burning breast of earth, the One
For whom the ages yearn has come.
O mighty hand, heal all our scars,
And wipe the stain of tears from eyes
That never clear could never see
Thy Face, that makes of sun a moon,
Reflecting Thy Omnipotence.