Are we indeed cyphers of no value Is there nothing in the human soul of worth Nothing that is lasting, nothing true In mortal beings evident since birth?
The avatars speak of an inner resident Screened behind the chest, behind the heart A being growing though divine intent In the realm of Nature's complicated art.
Will it break through the veils that cover it, Display through goodness and the holy fire Or will sleeping man carry it to the pit Inconscient through the years of his desire?
May it be we shall in mortal years awake Not linger in tamas * and the Light forsake.
Poems Undated (1727)
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