A Song Yet To Be Sung

I have seen wisdom in a young child's eyes

And beauty flowing from a wizened face,

Truth looked down on me from a cripple's chair

And the lame showed me a singular grace.

The blind have smiled at me as I walked by,

The deathly ill shining from their bed

Blessed me with the strength to carry on,

I saw joy upon the countenance of dead.

I feel a smile of earth, a smile of sky,

The fierce embrace of the South Indian sun,

The mountains call me to their solitude

With the creatures of the earth I am one.

There is a music waiting to be sung,

When all the hate in human hearts has flown

Before the winds of Truth that drive out wrong

And man into his godlike nature grown.