The Inner Life that is our Self

In unexpected moments of the soul

A recognition comes of former lives

When gestures natural to old lost selves

That seem not mine, natural, refined

Come forth and suddenly express themselves.

Brotherly salutations from these hands

Folded like an ornament of prayer

A forehead's touch or a saintly kiss

Pressed upon a friend or comrades brow.

Or sometimes dream reveals the hidden man

Divested of his cloak of ignorance,

A warrior or kingly soul or yet,

A servant of the higher consciousness

Or the unknown one who peers behind the veil

That screens this wildly teeming life from truth

And silence mid the din of earthly days.

What shall remain when body breathes its last

And life's accumulations have no worth

Is this, the inner life that is our Self,

Undying, indestructible and pure.