The Self Reborn Here is the brightening time of year, There the earth in cold despair Dreams of springtide drawing near Here the land is flower-fair. And what of us who came to find The second birth, the home of light In her to whom all pathways wind And the soul in its intense delight. Although the sustenance and care That nurtured us through growing years Succour gave to our despair, Held our hearts and calmed our fears, Our offering do we delay, Is there sufficient faith to hold The vision of this transformed clay Or has the fire of faith grown cold? Does the fervour burn within us still To stay the long and d

Truth the Justicer Now is the flower of the New Year full And dawns a brighter year in youthful hearts, Though winters we must face we still shall keep The harvest of our love when day departs. For who can see what joy the morrow brings Or fathom tragedy and loss and fate, But walk our metred walk apace our dreams And hope that human good shall outlast hate. Sleep then you souls, you children of the earth And let your waking hours fill with song For what shall be is written in His book And Truth shall be the justicer of wrong.

The Mists of Morn She lay there, all her beauty, all her light Surrendered now to him we name as Death. I did not weep but prayed that my beloved Would soar from body's pain to live again In the peace-filled spheres where spirits find their rest, That ambience divine where we absorb The lessons of the past and soul prepare The next descent into the human form. Her feet grown cold, her face in calm repose The final breath so quiet and so sweet. And then I wept, the tears unbidden flowed. It seemed the grief of all the world was mine, Lodged within this one small human heart As the charioteer dissolved the mists of morn.

Of Light's Descent and Darshan Days.htm Of Light's Descent and Darshan Days I lived and dreamed as a child And many a flowery garden laid Small in stature but O so wild Of gut and sinew I was made. I rose in back of the stake-bed truck My head upon a pillow of hay, The sun so bright and great my luck But closing fast the years to play. My father was a driven man Who drove his children, though with love Strong as a leviathan We worshipped him and found thereof A strength beyond capacity, And so I pushed the body more The parent s

The City The city in its stark attractiveness Seduces with a sensual display, Assaults the vital and beguiles the mind, Parades its fading beauty through the day. Then as dusk falls its streets become alive Carrying on their backs the prowling crowd, A magnetism, raw, alluring, grand, Assaults the eye and all the bustling loud Irreverence of night seems to dwell In bold and busy traffickers of sense. One feels a voyeuristic pleasure-home, Wild, exc

For Mother Inscribe the Wonder That Is You Oct. 22, 2005 Gather all my childhood toys, Toss them far beyond the stars, Grief the eater of my joys Desire with its thousand scars, Take the smallness of my state, My limited parochial view Erase them from this living slate, Inscribe the wonder that is you, The creation you have laboured for And sacrificed your life that love Might enter through the heart's closed door A

Looking Within March 12, 2012 Could the doors of the soul once opened close again Or is this darkness but the working out Of a conscious force behind its protecting veil? As I look into the mirror of my soul Behind the dust of centuries I see A brilliant glass reflecting the truth of me And the future that was promised and shall be. Long though the purifying years, I wait Patiently the hour of release From all that inhibited my growth, the pain Of separation and of separateness. Now the word from unseen heights descends Into the waiting heart

The Symbol Life I am an intoxicant of time And watch the flower resting in its seed, The hours pass, the days, the centuries; Long ago my longing ceased, my need To press upon the world a signature. I am a lute with a few vibrant strings Or a flute the winds blow lightly on my stops, Many an ancient voice within me sings The songs my soul once heard, familiar strains Of birth and death and conquests long ago, For I am an inebriate of love, A vessel into which the forces flow To fill me with a salutary wine. I shall be here when planets fall to dust, I am the symbol life, the pulsing sign, To make of me divine is Heaven's tru

Strange Dreams June 30, 2011 These strange dreams that come to me in sleep Intent to disturb tranquillity and rest, Are they come as one's own lessoners to teach Or lower forces sent the soul to test. Weird associations in my life, Unknown to outward self, unseen And yet they are not foreign to my thought. From these nightly visions can I glean Some knowledge of the subtle worlds behind The disconnected images that pass As occult threads that linger a

The Angels The thoughtful angel of the night will know The lands to which my soul in sleep must go To bathe in their regenerating streams Turn consciousness to visionary dreams. The silent angel of the Self shall lift My spirit carefully, I shall not drift In nether worlds where demons of the deep Will steal the peace that covers me in sleep. The angel guardian ever at my side Will keep nocturnal watch and I shall ride Through golden realms and climb the golden stair And the Mother meet in all Her glory there.