The Lotus Seed

Now I drink the solitary wine

Embittered with tears, the taste of acid rain,

And on the scraps of sorrow weeping dine,

Such Beauty shall not pass this way again.

We are allotted time then we are called

When spirit tires of the progress made

In human flesh , the epic journey stalled,

Leaves the form-bound shell, the birth delayed,

The birth of knowledge borne from fiery heights,

The union of the fountain with its source;

We cannot neglect the gift of God's delights

For mundane goals ephemeral and coarse.

Yet there is One within who waiting smiles

Expecting not subservience or need,

With fluting calls the errant heart beguiles

And in our mire plants the lotus seed.