Beauty and Delight

The world and I are surely being stirred

As in a cosmic cauldron of the Gods.

It is not the cream that rises to the top,

But toxic wastes, the gross impurities

That have dwelt so long in their subconscious caves

And veiled by Ego did their lethal work.

The curtain that hangs between our darkened selves

And the light that seeks admittance to the soul

Lost in the entanglements of life,

Yet calling in a voice suppressed by form

And the thousandfold exigencies we face

Shall meet at last in a supernal fire

That burns away the dross of centuries

Returning us to beauty and delight.