April 4, 2011
Something in the stillness softly calls, A voice that seems my own from depths within, Despite the unplanned errors of the days And the unconsciousness gropings in the dark. Where the centrelies I cannot say, Aware of only fragments of a truth That lies in me and yet is hid from view. I only know that this is why I came, For the beauty of the Way on which I go, The challenge and the daring of the game, To unearth the secret held within this clay, The reason why my soul takes birth in time.
Poems Undated (1727)
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