March Towards the Truth

The integument of our mortality

Is a subtle sheath encompassing the form,

A protecting envelope, a shield against

The entities and forces that attack

And seek to pierce the body or the mind.

A bastion of Self-defence they guard and stay

The lesser gods that would annihilate

Or take delight in human suffering.

The trials are real, affecting mind and mood.

This world seems poised for great catastrophe

Upon the brink of yet another fall

Into the oblivion of ages past,

Destruction visited upon all forms

The life-force gone, the earth in stillness lay

And yet survived; she is the chosen home

Of destiny, the dwelling-place divine.

We must ascend to live upon the heights,

Our being sanctified, made whole again,

The hour of God is come and calls the soul

From out its resting place behind the heart

To lead the glorious march towards the Truth.