The Dawning Godhead

The stings of death occur less often now

As I towards some silent grandeur move

And healing streams of peace within me flow

Quickening the universal love.

Mind cannot grasp the need for body's fall,

Revolts at human suffering and pain,

The soul's desire to leave it would forestall,

Uncertain if its consciousness remain

Beyond the final breath, the fated hour,

Or if it turn to dust beneath the stars.

The spirit knows the form is but a flower

That dies to be reborn and from the scars

Of earth's travail enlightenment shall come.

The soul incarnate cannot disappear,

With every birth assumes a brighter home,

Growing through the passing of each year

Until at last the human mask is shed

And men to their divinity arise.

Darkness shall lie down on morning's bed

And night the dawning Godhead recognize.