Some go uncomplaining to their death Unconscious of the meaning of it all, Hear not the subtle voice that is their song Feel not the breath of God upon their soul.
Content to be, to breathe and procreate Or monk-like live within the spirit's cave Astounded at the darkened state of man, As Illusion see the march towards the grave.
Some are called a greater work to do, To free the spirit from the chains of fate And touch the soil on which the angels dance Or the secret find beyond the mystic state.
Others destined to journey deep within Look on the paths that former births had trod Aware that life is a continuum, A journey to find the near and far of God.
From the poet's mouth a music shall resound Singing of a world that is to be Born from a world not deep enough to sound The truth that lives in us eternally.
Poems Undated (1727)
Home
Disciples
Narad
Share your feedback. Help us improve. Or ask a question.