Mind of Man* An ivory tower with obstructed view In which we build our world philosophies Combining old ideas to seem like new The ego-self to pamper and to please. Monotony in which the highest thought Subserves the bland necessities of greed Where pleasure a commodity is bought And sold to fill desire's endless need. A few have met the Mother of us all Descended here a flame of sheer-white light, Who enters us with every sincere call And banishes from souls with God's own might The gloomy limitations of our race, To peer bey

Sun Of Our Enlightenment Future and past I cannot see Or births and lives in former spheres And stars that have companioned me On journeys through unnumbered years Beneath the ever-brightening sun Of our enlightenment whose blaze Before man's labour had begun Was felt upon his obscure days; A greater light whose mysteries Impel the spirit to renew Its vision quest upon time's seas, The unmarked pathways of the few Who move towards an unknown goal, The lone adventurers of God Seeking the sanctum of the soul Who follow where His feet have trod, Forgetting self, defying mind, Foregoing ego and desire To lift

O Sleep Sweet Soul Sleep now O dove in the white infinity And in Their bosom find at last thy peace, The hooded angels shall reveal to thee The light for which thy spirit came to these Sad realms where mortal joy is mixed with tears And all our halting efforts strive to find Beyond the tribulation of our years A purity of heart, a sun-bright mind, Embrace a oneness all our days attest, In flowered field and on the snow-capped ridge, Among the sinful and among the blest, And work to build within the golden bridge. O sleep sweet soul who filled this cup with bliss, The pain of all the ages now shall end, My lips to thine, a las

And There Are Flowers And there are flowers, modest, shy, withdrawn For whom the sun as lover is too strong; They bloom at night and offer to the dawn Their fragrant gifts and silence is their song. We have watched the ballet of the stamens dance In the moon-white chalice of blooming Cereus When night was full and earth held in its trance And felt a subtle peace wash over us. Now love has come and granted me the Sight Reflected in the mirror of my heart, Of things that are themselves possessed of light And every soul is of this beauty part. For at the last joy shall again prevail, Eternity lives in us, we cannot fail.

To Mary Helen 2/6/02 Soul in Transition Riveted to the ticking of the clock Relentless the attack of piercing pain, The numbing cancer drugs reduce the shock But ebb and flow of agony remain. Minutes pass, millennia of Will, As all life's flame-events go flashing by, The shattered tortured shell tenacious still, Its mantra to the Lord a poignant cry For bliss in an uncomprehending world That moves a puppet or automaton Whose dark desires on the Spirit hurled For sated joys of dull oblivion. The days drift by a disconnected strand And hours move more slowly than the years, The sweeping motion of the second-hand

Winter Haiku - Scroll III Frozen leaf At water's edge Freedom comes with Spring's release. Silent snow Softly falls Covering our pain and grief. Ice crystals Pattern the glass, Moonbeams dance among the trees. Last night the snow Soft and deep Rocked the weary world to sleep.

In An Ancient Cathedral Icons staring towards a viewless place Candles representatives of prayer, Flicker and glow in the dim cathedral space As frankincense weighs heavy on the air. A priest intones the holy liturgy In sumptuous vestments sewn with threads of gold, The choir chants with solemn dignity And ancient women huddle in a fold Like creatures drawn to a lone shepherd's call. Here for awhile the faithful congregate To hear the solemn music's rise and fall, To think, to pray, perhaps to meditate, The soul's reflection on God's sacrifice, Wondering at the message of it all When through these doors the ways of sin a

Indelible His Stamp The empty streets I've walked Filled with tomorrow's dreams, Of endless visions talked Until the morning's gleams Washed over brick and stone And called me to my bed Restless and alone, By creative forces led Or delusions of the mind; Possibilities And plans of very kind, Potentialities. Then slowly I awoke To wonder couched within, First shedding of the cloak Of ego to begin. Called by an unheard Voice, Moved by unmoving Force My spirit could rejoice Upon its upward course. But now the gift of years, The helpmate of my soul Is gone and half-spent tears Obscure the lon

Mystic Rose Where time is not my spirit seeks release, Or press of life-desires, vital needs, The endless recollections of the heart And memories like scattered milkweed seeds Blown across the vistas of the soul. I know that good shall prosper and take root For we shall harvest sheaves of consciousness And softly as the playing of a lute Will live to hear a music sweet and fair, Partake of vision from those realms above Descending here and rising from below When earth is touched by healing feet of love. The joy we yearn for now shall draw us close As petal by petal opens the mystic rose.

Mother and Sister By Cancer Claimed In those timeless seconds before death The spirit often moves the wasted form And in the moment of the final breath To a higher power body does conform. I've witnessed acts of love beyond compare. Consider this, my mother's wasted frame Her body rigid, her pain too great to bear. As she cried for Demerol I came Injected her and gave her brief release, Then oxygen and watched her failing breath As she began to fade and the disease Now rampant claimed her soul for death. But she refused to yield to the great Shade Impossibly turned her head to see her love And smiled on him,