Life's Tapestry
"My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me,
I may but choose the colours,
He worketh steadily,
Full of the weaveth sorrow,
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the underside.

Love and Hate
Tempest of calm,
A symbol of the Love-hate drama,
Child and Mother,
Neither could be without the other.

If love and hate, dear Lord, so closely be entwined,
How shall we tell 'twixt love and hate, when judgement is so blind?
When words of solace to our hearts
(that which the mouth has spoken true)
are oft received as vermon darts...
Why does the mind thus misconstrue?

Shall from the ashes of our love,
Emerge the tiger not the dove?
And yet, within the tiger's claws,
Enfolded. Lo, are kitten's paws,

If love and hate the parents be,
Of all the souls activity,
If love and hate be so entwined,
In nuptial bed that all mankind,
Is child of love and child of hate,
And child of thee and child of self.
How shall we tell the loving thought and deed,
from that that is with hatred fraught?

The words we utter from the mouth,
Betray our being and the truth;
Though smoothly silk like viper's skin,
Yet, oh the vermon hid within,

We mean so well and yet the word,
Is from the evil in us stirred;
Only within the silent soul,
May we experience the whole.

God's Fountain
Seek the silence of the mountain,
if to yourself would be true,
Drink the waters of God's fountain,
which is deep inside of you,
Habits, customs and the hum-drum,
make a robot of the brain,
And like the beating of a Tom-tom,
keep you bound as with a chain,

But the truth is till within you,
gnawing at your very soul,
There in every bone and sinew,
trying hard to make you Whole...
So make your consciousness expand:
Run your fingers through the sand,
No grain is in isolation-
All is one in God's creation.

Dust and Stars
The call of Self, the call of lust,
Proclaim my birthplace as the dust:

When what I want is what I do,
And feel myself as blessed,
So long I have that which I want,
And think not of the rest,
Deprived, retarded, underfed,
Eight to a room, four to a bed-
A stone is both their daily bread,
And resting place to lay their head.

So what I want is what I do,
(the voice which bids me think of you
is muffled in my vocal chord):

I have my wants: I lack my Lord

Yet on that dust shell starlight fall,
And each be known as part of all,
And hark, that voice does louder speak,
'I ought, I ought, to help the weak.'

When what I want is what I ought
I hold myself twice blessed,
So long my oughts and wants are one,
I'm thinking of the rest-
Four to a room, two to a bed,
A stook of hay their daily bread:

For what I want is what I ought,
And what I buy is for myself and others bought.

I want not this, I ought not that,
The inner voice is still-
The inward message is 'I must'
It comes from inward will.

And so I do that which I must,
And keep the goal in view,
It is my choice to eat the crust,
The cake is meant for you, Thrice blessed, thrice blessed,
That others have both food and rest.

So man when oughts and wants are one,
And action springs from MUST,, Know, Man, you've touched the stars,
There's no return to dust.

Alpha-Omega
Lead me, my Guide, my Truth to learn
Teach me, my God, thy Truth to yearn
and fix me, as to thee I turn
Freeze me, as for thee I burn

Awake, my Soul: Is this a dream for me,
that in God's heart myself doth seem to be?

Heaken, my Soul: In Spirit's purest ray, Rest
There is no more to say