I watch the endless battering-ram of thought That comes unbidden from our darker skies, Bombarding the brain with senseless snatches caught From world-waves that our ship of nescience plies,
And looking close begin to realise That none of the meaningless wandering thoughts are mine. I've opened to a stream of consciousness that flies Wantonly, malicious or benign.
It is as if a radio were tuned To every station simultaneously Or the brain a fragile open wound Exposed to all channels, attacked repeatedly.
The Realized ones have found the remedy, To make of mind a calm reflective pool That pebbles of wandering words or thrown randomly Only the surface touch and in the cool
And silent depths of self a solid peace Remains, or the watcher within observes The moments of the turbid world and sees As clouds that pass their movements and reserves
By native right to accept or to reject Their influence and shake the coils of night. A Guardian is there who will protect The Flame and guide the emerging soul to light.
Poems Undated (1727)
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