Let me not hold to illusion's dreams Or stand on ego's quaking base The world is other than it seems, Behind the mask I see a face, A form that waits discovery, Herald of a coming race, Our secret Self and god to be. Our correspondence with the night It tolerates through wisdom vast, Cognizant of our human plight, Our evolution's checquered past And pours on all its calm delight. The moment waits for man to make The conscious call with alacrity, Asleep within our being wake The Lord of Life, the Deity Now hid from view within the core, The silent One, the Ecstasy Requests our presence at His door.
Poems Undated (1727)
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