Nothing but shadows in a land of light. Is it only a reflection that I see Or is the Self invisible as night That hides the face of the unknown deity.
Are all these songs I've sung disjointed strains Of music in the being still unheard, These thoughts but scraps of knowledge in the lanes Of wisdom while I wait the changing word?
My prayers quiescent now as bloom in seed And faint the whisper of my spirit's call, What use have I to nurture earthly need Who knew the Guide to whom I offered all.
Come once again, O golden One, O come Transform this clay into your earthly home.
Poems Undated (1727)
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