Sorting through the attic of the mind Inspecting chests of moulding memories And thoughts once prized possessions now I find Clog the room with cerebral vortices.
The pampered and presumptive ego-shell Accumulated useless outer wear That soon grew old and wanting quickly fell Into disuse though still I could not bear
To clear out racks of thought in my control. But now among the gathering dust of dreams I open wide the window of my soul And toss away a world of worthless schemes,
Ascending the stair of consciousness to greet The object of my inner being's call Who enters in on white and soundless feet His living Presence in me to install.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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