Russia and India

I know the music of the Russian soul

And the mystic substance of the Russian heart.

In dim cathedrals filled with frankincense,

Lit by candles flickering in the dark

I chanted prayers so deeply stained with grief,

These lamentations that would move the dead

In mortal plaints surpassing loveliness

Whose voices could support the cosmos' weight.

I have seen the courage and the strength of will

That survived invading hordes and will survive

Religion and the dogmas of the church.

For Russia's land is the Motherland.

Already her children have heard the inner call

Of India and sailed to those vast shores,

To seek the occult wisdom at her core

And harmony that draws all beings near.

What the world needs and desperately seeks

Is living here though hidden in the folds

Of modern dress that imitates the West.

But those who search the signal fires within

The seeds of the future find abundant here.

As the child of dawn is born from darkest night

The sun of transformation sheds its light

That earth might bloom in consecrated soil.