Poetry Collection
Verses on spirit, silence & the infinite
Bounteous Master
Now but remains to give Thee thanksFor all the unasked gifts of events,Each a splendid example infer
This Scene
A white shore on a lonely coast and a serene dusk,An assuaged fiery sphere pacified to a calm glow,E
Hear Now
Wither arrive these events like gloomy bearersWho ride the maelstrom of fates bringingCloud-caskets
Thy Writ
A harsh desert air is this sapped bare,Wrenching every stray drop of hopeFrom each oasis of my dream
Chalice of Sorrows
Oh to what end is one man’s anguish,One mere bird crying on life’s great treeHalts not the sun nor d
Thy Serfs
Oh I wish Thee better men,Just as Thee of make uncommon;
Sliver of Kindness
To how many concessions shall I offer thanks,The ill that comes comely and masked,A little sweetness
Cesspool
Oh how many volumes are in book of quarrelsAssembled from five score years that passedOf Thy experim
Beloved
Must we meet thus in a cloistered hourLike estranged lovers of charred hearts,Mine yet spilling word
Merely Loyal
What crisis to Thee did sorely demandThat Thou must ransom my life to time?For some age old debt tha
Unlike Thyself
Oh canst Thou not find in the entire universeOne common cause or purpose temporalBy which may meet o
Thy Conquest
My walls all slowly crumble, my edifying bricksBlown like mere sand grains by Thy breath,My moat of
Breathing Dust
A new fondness grows to Thy crucible,The singeing of Thy flames become a caress,All these wrenchings
This Multitude
Here, glimpse this awhile, my tattered tome,A sheaf of parchments bearing anguish’s ink,Here record
Hourly Rebellion
That’s how long it lasts, my hourly rebellion,Quashed by a mere fond remembrance,My human pride meet
To Linger Thus
Mine is no shopkeeper-heart that doth haggleFor every sliver of ardour and feeling,Unasked I gush fo
Battling Iron
Is this how Thou didst in Thy body gainThat unhuman sheen like living gold,Was it only application o
Pilgrimage of Mind
Does it count, when with mind swift-winged,I fly to Thy abode that is my world’s centre?Even as Thee
Thee and Thy Word
Are these separate, Thee and Thy word,As from a rooted tree appears a fruit?Or is thy word like a wi
Inverser
What a strange Divine art ThouDivining intents that I never sought,From my every cry somehowThou dot
Mysterious Intent
Now that churn of heights is doneAnd nothing to impede yet remains,Thou hast dredging of deeps begun