Carved Image To see beyond the mental images And structured recollections of the dead Framed in sorrow through time's long passages That in our hearts absolved of fear and dread, Made pure by deep aeskesis of the mind, The will to quell desire, conquer death, Resolved that by this journey God defined In man shall rise in him and with his breath, Speak through tongue aware of consequence, No longer a channel for universal noise Where words are uttered void of inner sense And hidden the innumerable joys Waiting by the pathways of our grief; That he may come into this flesh and bone Transform by stealth, silent as a thief Who enters

The Sacred Thread Our lives are full with fleeting things And the emptiness that knowledge brings Unless we live and soul derive From deeper vaults of memory Essentially or mystically The reason that we live and strive Exhausting our humanity In death or in a world-ennui. Why do we lose the sacred thread And find in pleasure our daily bread? Fulfilment of the body's lust Leaves in its wake a hardened crust And in the winding sheets of mind Eternal spirit rendered blind.

Night By Clouds Unbound Starless sky, the desolate grandeur of night Merging with the dark and sombre hills, A firefly, small pinpoint of light That flits across my sight the moment fills Mid the unrelenting torrent of the rain. The rose-breasts sleep, jays and ladder-backs Await the morn to freely soar again For on this night the febrile lightning cracks And all is dimmed as an abandoned stage, No movement but the fiercely shrieking wind Lashing the black infinity with rage. I watch and in the shadows of my mind Tenuous threads through centuries of thought Quiescent wait my thinking to invade, Yet in this fragile h

By Miracle Beset Do not let her memory Even for an instant fade Her face for all eternity Is on the loom of God displayed. The measure of all things is love That bears us through the Void of night, A love divine in which we move And breathe and die is our delight. Earth's harmonies cannot be killed By apathy, indifference, Her knowledge is of greatness willed By some divine unerring sense Since first the light of dawn appeared And green burst through the barren stone When God from fragrant calyx peered At beauty's face that was His own. Give me never to forget Joy of sacrificial days, My life by miracle beset

For Mary Helen, Mother's Child As the Trembling Leaf And I await as the trembling leaf Anticipates the rain, the lovely ferns, Ancients of life on whom she lavished love, A sign, an augury for which my being yearns That I am well, – not thee, but my long soul Stretching beyond the windows of my cage, Not thee, in whom the Seraphim rejoice, Surrounding thee with heavenly entourage, Where pain is not nor any lagging thought, "What might have been?" All is and is to be, We cannot wrest the future from the past. Together awhile we strode an ecstasy Defined by golden trees, the lean of bluffs, Wayside blooms sparkling in

The Morns of God I shall return to the forests of my youth, In their protecting aura rest awhile, No comfort seek nor grief-torn heart to soothe But walk alone mile on silent mile And speak of her to the fluttering leaves And lean against a friendly trunk and sleep To wake in beauty as the music weaves Between the soaring branches; I shall weep But little now amongst these royal friends, Another round complete the soul again Begins. I know not how the journey ends And of the future when the past is slain Know even less, or of my being's fate. Resolved, I shall surrender joyfully, In the eternal present I will wait The morns o

To The Rose When I was young unquestioning the days The trellised roses garlanded our home And though I've travelled long the errant ways Many are my dreams of that red dome. I breathed their fragrance as I breathed my food In hurried gulps and she so laughingly Rained petals on my innocence. I stood Beneath her glow as on a sunset sea. The roses of my childhood now are gone And loved ones lie at rest beneath the stars My quest for the rose of soul continues on And though the thorns of fate have left deep scars I the crown of rose shall one day wear Surrendered to my God as she the fair.

Over the Ridge of Spring Over the ridge of Spring I saw The blossoms of the ancient haw, Rounding the crest of morning hills The sprightly golden daffodils. Shall we ever have our fill of light That breaks upon our jaundiced sight, Of roses in supreme array Bursting from the bounds of May To flower in the cloistered heart No living thing from man apart, In fragrances the chaliced good The earth brings forth in field and wood, The presence of eternal life Amid this world of constant strife, The promise of new birth to be By sanctioning Divinity.

Those I Have Called He who remembers me at his body's hour And speaks my name with his last failing breath, Him will I guide and on his soul will shower Munificence releasing him from death. He shall fear not and pass through shadow-realms Accompanied by ever-growing light. The presentiment of darkness that overwhelms The new-released that soar from earthly sight Shall touch him not, my guardians by his side, Till he secures his resting place in me Preparing for the advent of the bride And the coming supramental dynasty. Those I have called who heard my clarions And worship me my daughters are and sons.

Two Spirits 5/11/03 I saw in him the Ideal's coming age, In her the future's myriad blossomings, The Spirit's truth emblazoned as on a page That pointed human life towards greater things. And though the book of life experience Unwritten chapters held such promise saw As when an inner light betrays a sense Of occult worlds inviting to explore The fearless seeker of the eternal word. For in his eyes there shone a consciousness And in his speech eternal wisdom stirred Of greater worlds that shaped his human dress. In her I sensed i