Oct. 22, 2005
Gather all my childhood toys, Toss them far beyond the stars, Grief the eater of my joys Desire with its thousand scars,
Take the smallness of my state, My limited parochial view Erase them from this living slate, Inscribe the wonder that is you,
The creation you have laboured for And sacrificed your life that love Might enter through the heart's closed door And something sacred in us move
The soul to its appointed realm With you the guide at our ship's helm.
For Mother
Poems Undated (1727)
Home
Disciples
Narad
Share your feedback. Help us improve. Or ask a question.