Hold close to Truth, the work of works begin, Aware there truly is no mortal sin But wrapped in evolution's quickened pace We see dissembling portions of our race Involved with darkness and the thrill of death Of thousands as they inhale the evil's breath Seeking the ignorant masses to succumb. Their depth of evil humanity cannot plumb But must aspire for the Mother's Grace, Infinite, imperative to face The falsehood growing as it has grown before. She will destroy it at its deepest core.
Poems Undated (1727)
Home
Disciples
Narad
Share your feedback. Help us improve. Or ask a question.