A time of contemplation, not discourse Has entered in the silence of my soul. In me I feel the sweet descending force And awaken to the insistence of its call.
What years remain of this eventful life Matter not for I belong to Her All the errors in my days of strife I have offered as my soul to Her.
We struggle through the ego to achieve No things of worldly worth, that we know, We hardly glimpse the gifts that we receive And the sunlit path on which our souls should go.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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