My life is as a slate unmarked by time On which you shall inscribe your love, your grace, 0 let it be an etching done in light With nothing that will mar the offered space, No errant thought intrude upon the script That from your hand decides my destiny. May the sense of self be finally erased, Let no desire mar your firm decree, No act distort the golden lettering Engraved on this surrendered soul of mine, That I may be a mirror that reflects The message of the immanent divine
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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