Fill the Chalice of the Soul

We work in gardens awed by stately trees

And flowers with their symbol names that touch

And move the mind to bright awakenings,

Then slowly make their way into the heart.

I have not even a remote idea

What transformation is to come, but then

There is soil to move and numberless weeds to pull

And piles of compost needing to be built.

Gardens of Consciousness, who here can say

What force established in the earth shall change

Our lives by their descent or charge the air

With beauty far beyond these mortal eyes?

To know the joy of youth and bliss to feel!

But the hibiscus need our care, we work

Attending to a hundred small details

Under the scorch of the South Indian sun.

Lacking vision still have we faith

That more than mere mountains She will move,

Break the resistance of our lower selves,

Lift off the cloth of ignorance we wear

Give us the eagle's sight or even more,

The all-embracing vision of the seer,

Fill the chalice of the soul with love

And gratitude to hasten godhead here.