Chained to a present of obscure desires And the karmic repercussions of our past We wander confused in the alleyways of time And blindly move to an unknown end at last.
If we could close the door on darker things, Draw back the brilliant curtains of the mind That hide the luminous vistas of the soul We'd see within our passage well-defined.
Transmuting hour, cusp of a century When the great of soul take birth to greet the Dawn, On earth a vast transforming energy, From matter's womb the golden child is born.
Poems Undated (1727)
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