NikolaiI
01-23-2013, 11:39 AM
Dearest Goddess,
Supersoul of my heart,
I am nothing but your beautiful Creation.
All around me is beauty,
Before me, above me, behind me,
Within - without.
A breath of your gentle love suffices
to uphold me,
A glance of your smiling eyes
to enrapture -
and a brush of your calming touch
purifies I.
Ah, Goddess,
You made the Land, pure Light and Beauty,
And brought the Land to Life;
Breath you gave to fish and rocks,
and all the creatures of the day and night.
In beginningless now I gaze, from out of time
To see the edge of wonder, your sublime
and perfect manifestations fall and arise,
In mirth and sadness, play the part of my disguise
All while worshiping my ever calm One, Beloved, within.
The struggle to be seen in a fateful movie reel
Dotted with lights like sparks on a turning wheel
Is old, becoming new upon each conscious voice -
A tragi-comic threnody of character, sympathy, choice
Put on by joyous actors. Angels, without sin.
. .
"Goddess, Light our way,"
So seeming serious.
"May what rises never fall,"
Simply delirious.
. . .
Amma said, "God has no hands or feet
but our own,"
I think, "the devil has none, too."
. . .
oh, all! hear the story
of rebirth into Light.
Sinless shadow of love,
Reforge into might.
. . .
pause, breath, meditation
. . .
the serene struggle
of joy and anguish
of what to say
when thinking creates
. . .
his life was hers,
he believed,
shallow depth of his thought.
. . .
what passion enslaves,
love forgot.
. . .
oh, heart! hear the story
of all your true born heirs
that trumpet out the glory
of souls nobody hears
. . .
I'm young again, and free!
No better than me-at-15!
No cynicism have I seen -
Your secret's well safe with me!
. . .
Trust the world to work its bidding.
And trust yourself to bid it well.
Bet the sun to continue wending
And bid the days to tell.
Them with ears will listen,
Them with mouths do sing
Birds the carriers bidden,
And love the timeless tell.
If it's old treat it so gently,
If it's new more gently still.
Sail the winds to high heaven,
Nothing shall stop this gale.
If memory were a curse, then
Ah, yes, we'd be damned well.
But deep in the past, mind teaches
our selves, to be still, oh be still.
Supersoul of my heart,
I am nothing but your beautiful Creation.
All around me is beauty,
Before me, above me, behind me,
Within - without.
A breath of your gentle love suffices
to uphold me,
A glance of your smiling eyes
to enrapture -
and a brush of your calming touch
purifies I.
Ah, Goddess,
You made the Land, pure Light and Beauty,
And brought the Land to Life;
Breath you gave to fish and rocks,
and all the creatures of the day and night.
In beginningless now I gaze, from out of time
To see the edge of wonder, your sublime
and perfect manifestations fall and arise,
In mirth and sadness, play the part of my disguise
All while worshiping my ever calm One, Beloved, within.
The struggle to be seen in a fateful movie reel
Dotted with lights like sparks on a turning wheel
Is old, becoming new upon each conscious voice -
A tragi-comic threnody of character, sympathy, choice
Put on by joyous actors. Angels, without sin.
. .
"Goddess, Light our way,"
So seeming serious.
"May what rises never fall,"
Simply delirious.
. . .
Amma said, "God has no hands or feet
but our own,"
I think, "the devil has none, too."
. . .
oh, all! hear the story
of rebirth into Light.
Sinless shadow of love,
Reforge into might.
. . .
pause, breath, meditation
. . .
the serene struggle
of joy and anguish
of what to say
when thinking creates
. . .
his life was hers,
he believed,
shallow depth of his thought.
. . .
what passion enslaves,
love forgot.
. . .
oh, heart! hear the story
of all your true born heirs
that trumpet out the glory
of souls nobody hears
. . .
I'm young again, and free!
No better than me-at-15!
No cynicism have I seen -
Your secret's well safe with me!
. . .
Trust the world to work its bidding.
And trust yourself to bid it well.
Bet the sun to continue wending
And bid the days to tell.
Them with ears will listen,
Them with mouths do sing
Birds the carriers bidden,
And love the timeless tell.
If it's old treat it so gently,
If it's new more gently still.
Sail the winds to high heaven,
Nothing shall stop this gale.
If memory were a curse, then
Ah, yes, we'd be damned well.
But deep in the past, mind teaches
our selves, to be still, oh be still.