Presence of the Rose Come near to me beloved rose of peace That I may draw a greater strength from thee, Countless battles I have won with ease But now the dark foreboding troubles me. Peering into night my way to find, Blinded not by light nor void but pain I trudge the treacherous quicksand of the mind Unknowing if my soul shall rise again. Aware compassionate presences are near, The star of faith my succour and my guide, What thunder crash of adversity to fear With the protecting angels by my side. A day is near when love all wounds shall close And in my heart the Presence of the Rose.

God From the Shadows Hanging on the cross in agony Writhing with the pain of our deceit, God from the shadows smiling looks on us Forgiving of our terrible defeat. Maintaining animosity in war And treachery in times of halting peace The life-blood of humanity is shed And never will the reign of sorrow cease While clothed in ego's vestments we resist The call to truth that sounds within the soul From lower nature's impulses desist Aspire for the sacramental goal, Add our voice to choruses of light When all is stilled and ego-self retires, Revoke the dire compact with the night And dance upon the grave of our desires.

Secure Against All Storms A maelstrom of unbidden memories Engulfs my waking hours and my sleep Is troubled by the violence of seas That inundate and massive waves that leap Upon the unsuspecting heart at will. Only the sacred name keeps me afloat In turbid waters that hold me captive still. Against the winds of death a tattered coat Of prayer is my protection in the vast Ocean of instability where tides Of grief would swamp me now that love has passed Beyond the realms of life and God abides Silent with a veil upon His face. In this fragile craft I ply my destiny Seeking through fog that mystic island place; Secure

Upon the Golden Stair Now blue day is but a memory Sequestered in an anteroom of mind, For night has spread her darkness stealthily And we through labyrinthine byways wind Supported by a faith that dawn will come And once again our mortal eyes shall see The pathway for the seekers' journey home, Averting the nocturnal treachery Of beings that await the silent hour When the watchman sleeps and thought is laid to rest. It is the time of an abysmal power That haunts men's' souls, seeking the depressed, The lonely, the demonic and the weak And poignant ones who live in sorrow draped, When evil forces on the unjust wreak Misf

Journey Scarce Begun - The Soul^s Dark Night Revisited.htm Journey Scarce Begun: The Soul's Dark Night Revisited How easily the denizens of doubt Gain entry to the all-receptive brain Or when the body weakened or worn out Acquiesces sullenly in pain Suddenly we cannot recognize The entity that slyly casts its spell; Our soul's resistance gone, the light denies, This foul and frequent visitor from hell. Thoughts too dark, words too vile to speak Come rushing past our lips; amazed We hear a voice that is our own and wreak Self-destruction in tortured moments crazed,

For Mary Helen She Has Travelled Long Towards the Light It was not as if we two were souls estranged Living in uncomfortable ease, That distance felt when inner fires changed To cooling embers dying by degrees. We were both flames and flaming did embrace The challenge that our fate had firmly sealed, For we had gazed upon the Mother's face And knew our secret souls by Her revealed. We sought to weld the hidden links of love Not even mighty death could hope to break In a mystic union sanctioned from above We loved the more for the Beloved's sake. Now she has left, a final breath at dawn Though t

Deep Wells of Gratitude There are moments in our lives that capture years And years that pass in an unknowing haze, A look, a wakening glance and light appears Where darkness seem to fill the endless days. A touch, a smile can wake the sleeping soul Or sound that resonates through body's walls And suddenly is filled the empty bowl Within the breast; a golden silence falls On man, miraculous, a bliss of peace Envelopes all, sanctifies and heals, The path is clear, hurdles vaulted with ease, A stealth of joy across the landscape steals. In earth we recognize the sacred place Predestined as the habitat of God Life and l

The Depths of Human Grief Late have I seen the depths of human grief, A sorrowful tableau before my eyes, A stalwart soul now drifting as a leaf, His storm-racked heart to all who listen cries: "Seven years I still cannot release The bonds of memory that bind me tight. For me there is no calm, no deep surcease, I grieve the day and am assailed by night. To all who come I re-enact the years When bliss and beauty came enclasped by love. I saw so clearly then, life held no fears, Our joys entwined the fragrant seasons wove Into immortal tapestries of light. And now I set a table for her soul Who watches my days depart in t

Behind the Mirrored Surfaces So clear the mirror of my days. Every imperfection's mote, Each errant thought that enters stays The clear and calm descending note Of peace that long I've striven for. I look and see a stranger's face Or recognize a visage poor That greets me with a worn embrace. Anger and impatience glow Like torches in a brilliant sky But hidden is the solemn slow Progression of the deity. I wonder at this pristine glass That lets me view the outward soul But not the God behind the crass Embodiment outgrown its role. To be like a serpent that sheds its skin And slough off old encumbrance

Mother^s Devotee - For Dyumanbhai.htm Mother's Devotee - For Dyumanbhai The other day in the morning mail I received a catalogue of books And then remembered Ved Prakash's tale. If one could tell the soul by outward looks Then on page one the photo of Dyumanbhai, That inner smile witnessing a scene Far off of peace, a light within the eye That held a wisdom we can only glean From scraps of world-experience or dream Or sometimes feel as from a height above, Compassionate in flow, a widening stream, The opening to avenues of love. "Our Dyumanbhai loved you very much", He said, then poured a rain of psychic tears As I had rarely wept before, a touch