Cosmic Poet

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Cosmic Poet

Poem

Ah, now I see the error of my ways,
Not here our levers of world action,
Nor even in inertia of our inaction
Can we origin of our works trace.

Machinations of mind, vigour of vital,
Density of body, palpitations of heart
Are spectrum colours of a cosmic art
By hidden hands on a canvas universal.

Many and one are the authors of our acts,
Nature with hundred-visaged face temporal
Weaves her ways with a will impersonal,
Fashioning by us all her whim driven plots.

A minor influence exerts us the individual
Gathering experiences over course of lives,
Earning with labour some knowledge and joys,
Packing as much in our little life interval.

Our soul the true individual luminous
Influences a little through our mind clouded,
Sneaks its light through our passion barricade,
Remaining to our life and death impervious.

Other stronger currents move our surge,
Mighty shining thoughts of sage and seer,
They who from high firmaments appear
To set and correct the course of an age.

One Force stands above all and imperial,
That scripts the fate of nations and men,
By it is the destiny of every specimen,
By it alone is won every station supernal.

The Cosmic Poet crafts each act and role;
The dreamer’s song, hero’s sacrifice high,
All nobility’s crown and glint in lover’s eye,
Are all elements of His most perfect whole.

To Him then appeal, to His executive might,
So shall be the change we fervently seek,
Shorn of pride and with thy humility ask
Passage and entry through the immortal gate.