To Mary Helen

August 25, 1999

Now I am calm in silent depths of mind

And harvest joy in roughened thankful hands

As autumn comes and our gardens find

The Mother's imprint on these sacred lands.

By the still lake reflecting on life's events

The years of our seeking pass slowly in pensive mood,

A smile wells up as I inhale the scents

Blossoming on a branch of gratitude.

So many years upon the wheel of time

Weaving the wondrous patterns of the world,

Together we faced the great and arduous climb,

How beautifully as comrade souls we toiled.

Descending bliss is close, I hear the rush

Of aureate wings pressing towards our earth

And in my heart a voice of rapture sings

Of godhead's crown and superhuman birth.