Too frail our language still to speak of love Or God or Joy, too wanting are our words. A language growing by experience We must expand our vision and the sparse Vocabulary of impoverished phrase, Supplant with new-formed terms by light defined That vibrate with the syllables of truth Descended from those greater atmospheres We seldom glimpse and yet must claim as ours. An etymology by God revealed, Our leaps into the unknown conscious grow And all our being vibrate with the Word.
We shall one day all nations understand, No language closed to the enlightened mind, No tongue obscure to one who hears behind The speech that cannot catch the Spirit's voice Expressed the thought that lies within the soul. Till then we must aspire and delight In moments when the muse of poetry Descends into our struggling mental sphere Enabling us to hear the mantric strain And glimpse the wonders of the Overmind.
And when we reach the next divine plateau No vague descriptiveness of visions seen Or half-attempt to render soul-experience, But a concise depiction filled with force And luminosity that makes one feel The realization on those planes one's own.
And in the silence following the Word That new-creates the fabric of our lives We shall aspire in those worlds to live Instruments and scriveners of Light.
Poems Undated (1727)
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