I have held her rich and fragrant with her seed And felt the quickening fire in her breast, Observed man's pavements buckled by a weed As Spring burst through the earth as one possessed.
I have heard a hundred songs upon the air, Humbled by the beauty of the dance, The ritual of mating pair by pair And joy was mine with each remembered glance.
But now I face the battle for the soul As demon forces rise to the quench the flame And I must empty as a beggar's bowl All sense of self, attachment to a name.
Without the spirit all we gain is lost Yet with it what we give retained, increased For giving measures not the worth nor cost But as the loaves and fishes at the feast
Multiplies the giver's gift of grace And the soul grows by his beneficence. Then all the world becomes a sacred place And life regains divine significance.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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