When the Hour of God Draws Near

Why should a stone be more than a stone

Even in the poet's coloured eye,

Is it not too a receptacle of God

Breathing its days a measured Deity?

Why should the water turbulent or calm,

The soil, the body of our Mother, earth

Be more than water, hold greater claim than soil,

Aspire to be of more intrinsic worth?

Why should a man be other than a man

Who hoards his days a miser cheating death?

Yet man contains the seed to transcend life

To grow into a vaster, wider breadth

Of being and acquaintance with the One

Who lives in him whose voice he does not hear,

And moves his life towards an unseen goal,

The burning dawn when the hour of God draws near.