Where is this soul of man that men proclaim, Can it be seen with the human eye? The sincere scientist questions even the name And the sacredness which faithful ones reply. Is imagination playing its subtle game, Speaking of the holiness of the few, Accepting as true a hollow specious claim, An evangelist trick the erring heart to woo? The sages call it the eternal One And some equate it with a living God Present as the presence of the sun, Divinity found in every stone and clod. And the humble worm striving to be Divine, Evolving man already is the sign.
Poems Undated (1727)
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