A Light On Earth 1/5/08 I looked upon the outer sheath I wore, A countenance well-known, both friend and foe Yet stranger to a wisdom held before, Beyond the many births so long ago. I did not ask of God my soul to fill With moving poetry nor tore my breast In anguish when the Muse's voice was still, Beyond my self I knew that I was blessed. A moment came when a high voice was heard That counselled me to find the secret cave Where the sacred Om, first and final Word, Uplifted me as on a giant wave. And in that hour of divine largesse Awaking from a momentary trance I saw the child-god roam and play at ease; His face I saw in every

Love, the Transforming Power Where unkindness rears its cruel head And words burst forth from thoughtless, angry hearts One must remain unmoved, a wall of calm, For silence is the secret force that thwarts The hissing venom from a wounded soul Troubled and awash in psychic pain. In a peaceful spirit dwells the greatest strength. To be untouched by all that is profane, To offer love to those who voice but hate With no outward need of word or

To Mary Helen O Radiant Soul 1/2/08 O radiant soul, angelic among the flowers Whose silent heart was like a flaming rose, O beauty breaking though the form-bound shell, O light that burned so brilliantly within - Motionless like a deer in blinding light I stand transfixed by sorrow, unable to move Beyond my grief, your spent body's flight To the sanctuary of eternal love. Your spirit's triumph is our earthly loss Though Heaven adds a richness to its own. A joy that drew our kindred spirits close In the loveliness of moments without speech - These endless recollections of the heart Like scattered seeds or particles of dust

The Self I Was Before I sometimes see the self I was before And what through years of toil I have become. One was with me who channelled all my dreams And made my days a symphony of song. Now she is gone and silent and alone I walk the garden lanes to still the soul. Yet I seem to pass through a revolving door Only to enter and go round again, So little appears the progress I have made. If one cannot control emotion's thrusts Or summon help when adverse beings come, To look with an uncompromising eye, On habits and the long established ways, Then in truth a Sisyphus-like task, A moving forward only to fall back Seems my destiny pr

The Hour of Departure The stillness of the forest at the noon The silence in the mountain-top retreat, Alone I walk, my love has left too soon, The path predestined for my erring feet. The metallic smell of rain upon the soil And the sweet and heady scent of new mown hay, But I am bound by the body's toil Unable to find again the sunlit Way. On earth awhile she seeking beauty found By love and sacrifice the spirit's path, I spread her ashes on the holy ground Of Auroville in the body's aftermath. My heart in sorrow's iron grip remains And the fires of my aspiration, coals, Yet One who knowing all preordains

There Sits No Crown There sits no crown on man's lowly head. The lion with its majesty and force, The deer more swift, the eagle and the hawk; Vision, speed and strength once his on earth Now lost in the evolution of the race. Yet mans' progression through the fields of mind Changed not his anger, violence and hate Who flies above the world in steel cocoons, Communicates with ease and maps the stars But cannot overcome rigidity Of self, expanding not the inner soul. Impotent to quell his trivial desires. Unable to unite he then creates A thousand faiths in essence all the same, Each believing itself the ultimate word. The key is lo

Silence Comes Never will I tire of the rose Or fail to find the lilac passing sweet And even if the door of life shall close On the other side are friends I wish to meet. Never will I find the sunset bland Or mourn because the rain obscures the sun, When I held a dying bird within my hand Saw one life end, another life begun. Though I have lived the broken years of grief When one who loved me let her soul take flight, In the sea of sorrow foundered on the reef Of loss but, lost not the intense delight One finds when self retires and bows down In humble acquiescence truth to find And sees the heart by pain much wider grown As silence comes

Souls of Aspiration A silence in the noise of city streets Pervades the faithful on this Darshan day As if time were but a momentary trance, The earth so small, the stars not far away. Ascending stairs that have felt pilgrim feet Through decades of devotion from afar; Some ask for favours, others come to take, A few to give themselves and all they are. It seems a lifetime when we were but few And stood beneath the tree whose kindly limbs Cast shade upon the seekers kneeling there To importune or offer like prayerful hymns That rise as incense spires in the night, Souls of aspiration seeking light.

His Grace Bestow Having lived the drama's course this I know, The way is paved with thorns, the progress slow, Accumulated memories to lose And endless seems the road on which we go. What is this dream of God that moves us so, This light that penetrates the depths below, This path, so difficult though yet we choose For only thus the soul within can grow. All is not done, we still must overthrow Desire and its disastrous undertow, All inherent human traps defuse Upon the humbled h

The Train of Fate Who is the seeker hid within this shell And who the fearless warrior in time, Who confronts the thrower of obstacles Whose strength is given that he may climb To heaven on earth passing the gates of hell. Who is the charioteer that drives this car Through the dense unyielding thickets of the mind And the dark forbidding jungles of the past Prepares the golden house where we shall find The truth that tells us who we truly are. Who is it that resists the coming dawn And lingers in the byways of the self Obstructing progress and the spirit's will A puppet or a small mischievous elf Or a force that uses us a