The Spirit within is
the long lost mystery,
besought by the world
with a soul in pain.
Through a world of words
which are void and vain.
O never while shadow and
light are blended, shall
the human quest
& it's woes be ended.
Never the world of its
wounds made whole,
Till the words made flesh
be the words from soul!
I am the flower, I the seed;
For I do know that in whatever I see
I am a part of, and it the soul of me.
There is a flame within me
that has stood unmoved,
untroubled through a mist of years.
Knowing nor love nor laughter,
hope nor fears, nor foolish throb of ill.
I feel no shadow of
the winds that brood,
I hear no whisper
of a tide that veers,
I weave no thought of passion,
nor of tears, unfettered of time.
I know no death that chills;
I fear no fate, nor fashion, cause nor creed,
I shall outdream the slumber
of my darkest other,
( I know no birth)
Not where the wheeling systems darken,
And our benumbed conceiving soars;
The drift of opinions, would we harken,
Beats at our own clayshuttered doors.
The angels keep their ancient places;
Turn but a stone and start a wing!
(That many-splendoured thing)
A