Beyond


NOT in those dust-born particles of breath

But on the height of a blue deathless hill

Is the unshakable peace, the golden wreath

Of crowning victory, the world-forging Will.


On burning sands lifes futile caravans tread

Lured by the passionate icker-call of esh,

In the same blind eager circles ever led

Through the labyrinthine deserts mesh on mesh.


Find rather under the souls austere sign

The pure fountains of heavens deluge-re,

The rock-embedded source, the spirit-mine,

The immortal wine of sovereign Desire.


Plunge into silence of that bourneless sea,

Mirror of the vast Wings of eternity.


Page-14