Poems of Narad

In A Golden Dawn

The rivers of our Inconscience meet the sea
Of our unknowing, we are the foam of tide,
Tossed by desire's waves relentlessly
Though oceans call and continents untried.
Our dreams are beached on cold unfriendly shores
And hope is washed away upon the sands,
Propelled by an inevitable force
The hours seem controlled by unseen hands.

Is there a soul yet born that has not known
The loneliness unbearable when love
Beyond this tenement of time has flown
To reaches inaccessible above?

But faith now sees what mind cannot conceive,
That soon in a golden dawn there shall descend
Such beauty that our hearts no more shall grieve
As trumpets clarion darkness' end.