(The Lady Hawk of the Lakes. )
This world is full of beauty,
and such a pleasant place would be,
if we did but love it,
and its wonders they could see.
This world is full of wonder
like the twinkling stars above;
and if we did our duty
it would be full of love.
This world is full of mystery
like the deepest depths of mind;
yet the dignity of spirit
hereon is left behind.
This world is full of records,
of data writ on time;
as is the soul of being,
and its essence, so sublime.
This world is full of spirit
which knows not where to go;
while fear shackle them in darkness,
and thus they cannot know.
This world is full of music,
yet they seek the object of their love;
but the love which is within them,
they think comes from above.
But that which is the wonder
and the absolute bar none,
already did its work of art;
in the beginning it was done;
before time tore asunder
and symmetry came to be,
in the mono-pole of oneness;
and resides there still to see.
Thus, all there is to ever know
and all there is to be,
is waiting till we’re ready
to see it thus, you see.
Each voice which sings the song of songs,
each mind that comes to know
the nature of their deepest self,
whilst on earth will come to glow.
If truth were but their only love
how wondrous it would be,
for only love reveals the truth:
of The one, the two, then three.
Ah love, could we conspire,
to amplify the song,
from the two in isolation
to the multitude and throng?
So, in the depths of winter
where darkness is thus rife;
gather the babes around the hearth
and speak to them; of Life.
Fire the flame within them
As the coals do warm the hand:
and tell them of from whence they came,
The Divine Eternal Land.
Life is not thus made on earth,
nor in space, nor form, nor time;
but deep, beyond polarities
in a ground which is sublime.
All things brought forth in time must go,
back to from whence they come;
and the end is the beginning
when the temporal work is done.
And the work which you and I must do
whilst on this earth we run,
is to make it a reflection
of the realm from whence we come.
The world will not come right by chance,
nor hopes, nor faiths, nor pleas;
but only by our actions,
our aspirations, then our deeds.
By: Dick Richardson