Prayer of the Soul Whole legacies of self I've lived and still I know the plundered heart, the broken will, The body beneath the blows of tyranny. As the ocean so this boundless love, Constant feels the ecstasy above, All things embrace that are but points in Thee. Breathe still in me the strength to be new-born, Though all my mornings wake to seem forlorn; Implant in the heart the Word that sets me free. Fill the crevice of my life with fire Churn the roiling depths to lift me higher. Make deep my joy to sing alone of Thee.

TWO POEMS 1. Fragments of a plan concealed from Mind Whose glimpses see a part as whole and sum, Come wandering through groves of thought in silent Rays as sunlight sheds through quivering leaves Its miracle of fire-laugh and the lightning Of its pure and fearless self-sustaining Majesty of truth. 2. In a limbo pregnant with the seed of soul I wait to hear Thy silent steps. A symbiosis I of lofty aims And dull desires downward dragging, Each at war within this house of breath. Calm and chaos, surge and silence Battle on in bitter clash A

Call for the Divine Love The winds of change confound As seeds of doubt abound ̶ Round me humanity's cry Troubles an uncertain sky Piercing the night's profound. All in its order is here Night carries day on its bier Fear camps on the shoulders of reason Obscurity has come into season, Yet dawn brings the golden one near. Pace softly then slow mind As the seeker seeks to find Peace in his brothers, suffusing Through passion and tragedy musing-- Her love that heals mankind.

Divine Harmonies Chords that tuned my soul from birth Vibrant, ethereal, forged in fire Sound upon the waves of earth I am but strings on God's great lyre.

Voice of the Divine Musician His joy ran infinite, boundless, deep, Playing with Light as a child's new toy, In vision and miracle musiced with sound And flew in the heavens of thought's solitude. Endlessly frolicking in rapturous waves On borders of worlds as yet hardly glimpsed, Rhythms of earth-life throbbed in his feet, But silence eluded, a prayer long-delayed. A yearning vague, dispersed as in dream His life he aspired for truth to found, For peace intoned, on a soil supreme Symphonic in God's solitude.

Company of the Holy Satsang, where is your saving breath, The harmony we once found there In a world of pain and untimely death. Where now the promised paradise Of all Her difficult travail And the Lord's unending sacrifice?

My Soul in Morning From what intense alembic have I drunk Inconscience, passing through the seas of birth, That still my soul upon the bars of time Must wait, nor vainly press the tides of night But cling to truth while the ages wash beneath me, Surging, foaming, dissolve and reappear Sustained by deity, upborne in change, Moving in the moments conscious flow Though hardly of the saving touch aware, To infant-like receive and patient, pray Till an eye shall open and the being breathe And the cloth be lifted in the final hour.

Self Awakening No touch or strain is heard Of those high notes of song Quivering in night's lament, In an age gone wrong. Comes there no voice befriending Stars whose patient reign Have lost in dim obscurity Of clouds their high domain? Faint footfalls come on earth-dust As one who scatters seeds To winds of fairness beckoning Days of sunlit deeds. Recall forgotten journeys And threads of former lives, Awake to stellar memories The Self that now arrives.

Journey of the Soul Unhurried through the voiceless world I fly Blazing a pathway through the eye of space, Peering through endless corridors I ply, Seeking the place where the mystic footsteps pace. The grey implacable edifice of mind Its temple destined to decay in dust, It's thought-streams pulled through vortices half- blind By a force unerring in its force-filled thrust. Interminable though they be our paths still wind Towards Truth and Light, the core of godhead's plan, The blue of Krishna born for heaven's kind From the animal evolve the Superman.

Ascent from Darkness      1960's And in that silence desolate I call with silent voice. Soul parched though waters beckoning No drop to ease the pain Of separateness; the ache, dry-racked On a wheel of nothingness. Spinning down through levels cutting Subcutaneous layers of mind, A pauper's ransom worthy not Of rescue to a higher kind. We enter with a cry to birth And gestation is borne in pain, We wake in morning youth imbued By evening infirm again. These days that grow with roots in hell