Trust Not Entirely the Heart Trust not entirely the heart, The passionate, yearning heart of man Too often by emotions swayed. It is not sole arbiter of self, But That which lies behind its throbs Untouched by pain, unmoved by grief, Untroubled by its restlessness. Love is not the heart's to claim Nor the vital life's domain. Beyond the body, above the mind Love lives supreme, its godlike state Surrendered in blissful offering.

The Vast Alone Once again I have returned home To the chill end of winter, burgeoning spring, Greeted by my silent friend, the hawk. Perhaps I only understand one thing, Love made the world and love alone can save Man from himself until a greater Man appear Upon the far horizon of the world. No longer need the anguish and the fear Trouble the morning or at evening's close Depress the heart and infiltrate the mind, For some have seen and many surely felt The strong vibrations hiding just behind Unfinished God dressed in flesh and bone, One who is us and is the vast Alone.

To Draw the Godhead Near I seek not heaven's fortunes nor the prize Of peace from which all understanding comes. Nor do I wish detachment that denies The fragrant earth for solitude that numbs The very soul adventuring within To comprehend this miracle of green Set in a blue surround, and the din Of life embattled breaking the world's serene. I still would choose the marvel-winged in hues More beautiful than saintly crowns and song To thrill the heart, its pain and sorrow lose Amongst the blossoming of Spring, the long And sweet departure of the fires of fall, The silence in the white time of the year; These and more,

Thy Law of Love Fulfil I have leavened the bread of sorrow with salt-tears And sought for solace in the arms of night, With deep regret looked on the passing years As one whose vision dims with failing sight. Time dulls the memories we would retain, Life presses on with manifold demands Still I retrace the seasons of your pain And hold your vision in my shaking hands. I have not conquered that for which I came Hold no illusions that I have achieved A modicum of peace, nor could I tame The rushing seas of anguish; I am bereaved And yet I live and life has beauty more To give to those who erring seek Thee still. I see

Snow I burn in the blistering heat of the tropic noon Remembering the snow that drifted down Silently to fill my heart and chill My very bones; snow that covered the brown Death of that which I so fiercely love. I woke to newness and a strange delight, Wrapped in warmth I raced to touch and mould The soft white flakes until approaching night Closed the skies on childhood's happy hours And feet and fingers stiff and red with cold Led me back into the fireside And a tinselled tree with ornaments of gold. Far now from me those carefree sparkling days, Ice crystals hanging from the eaves A crust of diamond glass upon the trees And in the f

Sometimes in Dream—Heron Rising.htm SOMETIMES IN DREAM—HERON RISING (Published in Mother India -October 2006) I saw her as the sun began to die, A slowly rising ribbon of feathered light The great wings flapping soundlessly and I Beneath the unfolding miracle of white. Sometimes in dream my soul has swiftly flown To heavens unvisited by mortal thought In silver vastnesses with God alone Where golden tapestries of life are wrought. And now the silence sings to me its songs The breezes whisper fragrantly a Name, A power of love to rectify all wrongs

Beyond the Credos Men Believe Is there a God of levity Who in the woodpecker's laugh delights, Fashions crows and minah birds Then makes us weep when song bursts forth From meadowlark and nightingale Exploding as they take the air? Is there a God so whimsical, Creator of the sloe-eyed deer Who then designed the stolid moose And built the mole to break through clay Then in His image sculpted man? In truth I do not believe it so. Perhaps a spark was placed within This creature of a thousand shapes Who cannot find his rightful form Yet glimpses through the sages eyes The beauty that is waiting there, Above our poetry and si

Home of Truth and Higher Man What is mortal that remains What residue of self exists When the body disappears? What is this arrogant too-full mind That thinks itself the wondrous All, This body with its endless needs This heart now wounded, now alive To love, to longing, never still, These lungs that with the final breath Collapse into the death of things. Where is the spirit hid in man, Does soul survive our brief time here Are we more than what we seem to be? Now the world erupts in war The tribes of man relentlessly Destroy that which they most fear, A brotherhood beyond all creeds A unity of differences, A onen

It Was Not Her Voice She said, 'You are no longer needed here', Her voice dismissive and her words like ice. I turned away towards emptiness, the pain Of failure was my soul's eternal price. It was a dream that came as day awoke, A haunting sorrow filled my weakened bones, I could not catch the vision in the ray, My mind was like a gravesite filled with stones. I wrote to her that all was emptiness Imploring her to fill my vacant mind But desire's will in me would not allow The promised boon silence can only find. And now my failure follows me by night, By day when I am merged in tree and flower, Wherever I go the shad

I Watch the Light I watch the light most tenderly caress, Not burning now but soft in early morn, The dogwoods in their gold and russet dress And nothing is distraught or left forlorn. It would seem that I in solitude am lone, No more the bright companion at my side Through whom the days so wonder-filled are flown And though the seasons change remains my bride. But now I feel a calling to relieve The soul that long has known the emptiness And years of greyness when the heart did grieve For one more smile or one last sweet caress. We must move on no longer chained to the past That stifles and would stay our soul's advance, Alwa