Song of the Wren A solitary wren upon a bough Above my head began to sing for me. He looked so deeply in my eyes I thought Is this a bird or a departed soul Come back to visit at the dusk of day? This wonder of speckled brown that sweetly trilled Invited me in turn to make reply. Thanking him for his gifts I sang to him A poorer imitation of his song And back and forth in the slowly fading light Our music echoed across the silent lake. Then suddenly another voice began And turning around my friend began to sing To his fair love the tune he sang for me.

Recreate the Beauty We Have Lost O soul we live in precincts of the mind, Suburban thoughts and deeds our daily fare And petty acts to justify the self, Yet we are more than mere automatons Moving through a fated life towards death, And though we fall and fail and fall again Behind apparent ills and mortal flaws A voice immortal sings within this clay Urging us to find the song we are And live the light that glows within each breast That the eyes of love unblinded by desire Might look upon this world and joy renew By a vision-force empowered to create And recreate the beauty we have lost.

The Body of Mother India Jan. 18, 2011 From my balcony this much I see, A tiny temple with its priest enshrined. The Pongal celebration has begun. On the street the ladies bent in half With mathematical accuracy design Kolams of exquisite form with ease, Colourful and transient they last But a day or two brightening this world So strewn with refuse that it hurts to see The body of Mother India so abused. Perhaps a time will come and consciousness Grown aware of the sacredness of earth Will spur the soul and beauty manifest, A higher man descend, a guardian Who sh

A Bearer of Her Grace I would have held, enfolded you in love Till time itself dissolved in nothingness And the great stars fell from the vaults of space. I would have kissed you with all tenderness But I did not; with a steel-like self-control I held back all the longing of my heart, The years of sorrow empty and alone, The hope that on this earth no more apart To be, but know again lost happiness. You are not of this world, beyond my view Your soul leans low to bless me with its light And helps me find a deeper faith anew. O gentle spirit with your sweet embrace I see in you a bearer of Her grace.

Service In the morning when the golden flowers fall And in the stillness of the afternoon Or evening when You hear our silent call Asking for that sole and priceless boon, Our prayers with incense rise throughout the tree. It seems as if the earth aspires here And Truth's descent shall surely set us free Bathed in the Samadhi's atmosphere. This kingly trunk, these branches signify Service first to God and then to race. O come to us Transcendent One we cry Nothing can we achieve without the Grace. This world is a divinely chosen place, The home of light in gold eternity.

Psychic Fire A breath of sweetness hangs upon the air A fragrance from the heavenly altitudes It has no counterpart on earth so fair And comes to us in silence' inner moods. There is a light that seldom do we see Accompanied by sounds we cannot hear A world of gods and goddesses that we In open moments of the soul draw near. There is a flame, a blaze that sets us free Burning beyond the provinces of mind, The psychic fire that glows eternally In us and is so difficult to find.

Worldly Things I am still attached to worldly things Although my soul has wandered wide And held the joys of timeless springs With my beloved at my side. I have seen a light come down on earth Have looked into the eyes of God Then realized a second birth To walk upon the ways untrod. And still the singers in the trees Call me back to soil and sky While earth's sweet music whispers, "Please, Do not forsake my destiny."

Songs Divine I painted sorrow in a young girl's eyes And drew the corners of her red lips down; I etched the pain of a heart that longing cries For love that opens as the rose is blown. I heard the music, caught the soul's perfume, Its rhythm marked and felt the cadence clear Of youth undaunted by the hand of doom Or touched as yet by the chill breath of fear. A joy so rare broke sweetly through her smile, She seemed a child of God from future years; Though I must leave, my soul shall stay awhile, My songs divine to dry her youthful tears.

The Leader of the Way Trust not in the silken words of men But rather in the silence seek the Self, Lift up your heart and raise the silver cup Empty of all desire that it may fill With golden soma streaming from above. For all our moral rectitude how far Have we advanced towards the burgeoning light, Where is the kindness and the words that heal? Desire and greed for power rule our lives And the sound bites of our leaders substitute For truth and meaning beyond the reasoning mind. But in the cave of the collective soul

For Mary Helen Anniversary Another year and love within us grows. Arising with the accustomed light of dawn You will smile and I will hold you close, And we will go where souls have rarely gone, But now the body is no more and I Alone shall celebrate your memory. Let me not dwell upon the final days When only was heard the steady slowing breath Departing this frail envelope of grace But rather on the peaks transcending death When the blossoms of all earth before us fell And beauty flowered though the time-bound shell. The sight of you more sweetly than a kiss, Your loveliness my spirit's sanctity Sealed fifty years and mo