The Sun Speaks

O man thou representative of God

Who in thy bosom hold His force and flame,

Yet seem a work magnificent but marred

Or flawed attempt in some tremendous game

Of chance to win thy immortality.

In bodies weak and minds so circumscribed

As worship a dim and masked divinity

Who can be bought with shallow prayer or bribed

With empty gifts on altars of desire.

My radiance is symbol of his care,

For thou must burn all dross and reaching higher

Attain the realms above the world's despair,

Await the dispensation of His peace,

The touch that shall transform and liberate.

Tend the flame within and do not cease

Until His will becomes thy soul's estate.