What Is Fate jogs along, a drunken juggernaut, What is to happen inevitably will, Be it destined for pleasure of for ill. No end of prayer or angst or thought Will change the plan that Source has brought, Be it nectar sweet or poisoned pill, Accept all that happens, drink your fill, This way an awakened state is wrought. He loses his pile, she sweeps the pool, He comes to life, she to her dying day, He to hard labour, she to endless play, He to Self knowledge, she stays a fool. Welcome all that comes your pilgrim way And bring great peace to troubled mortal clay. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alone The Great Sage, unfathomable, free from fear In His field stands firm. His solitude Fulfils a throbbing pulse of world beatitude; By those unseen, who time and space hold dear. There being One Existence for the Seer No place is left in His placid plenitude For shadows Real or unreal to occlude; No more seems Sun to rise or set yets here. How seeing Golden Sun, at play in world Can He whose natural state is Self empowered, Receiving precious ring, see ought than gold? As lily flowers, so is His field endowered. Man awake, remembers not his worldly dream His field, the world, is a robe without a seem. Alan Jacobs
Posted on: Sun, 17 Aug 2014 00:54:39 +0000
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