I bring to thee, night, my day’s empty cup, to be cleansed with thy cool darkness for a new morning’s festival.
The mountain fir, in its rustling, modulates the memory of its fights with the storm into a hymn of peace.
God honored me with his fight when I was rebellious, He ignored me when I was languid.
The sectarian thinks that he has the sea ladled into his private pond.
In the shady depth of life are the lonely nests of memories that shrink from words.
Let my love find its strength in the service of day, its peace in the union of night.
Life sends up in blades of grass its silent hymn of praise to the unnamed Light.
The stars of night are to me the memorials of my day’s faded flowers.
Open thy door to that which must go, for the loss becomes unseemly when obstructed.
True end is not in the reaching of the limit, but in a completion which is limitless.
The shore whispers to the sea,“Write to me what thy waves struggle to say.”
The sea writes in foam again and again and wipes off the lines in a boisterous despair.
Let the touch of thy finger thrill my life’s strings and make the music thine and mine.
The inner world rounded in my life like a fruit, matured in joy and sorrow, will drop into the darkness of the original soil for some further course of creation.
Form is in Matter, rhythm in Force, Meaning in the Person.
There are seekers of wisdom and seekers of wealth, I seek thy company so that I may sing.
As the fallen leaves, I shed my words on the earth, let my thoughts unuttered flower in thy silence.
My faith in truth, my vision of the perfect, help thee, Master, in thy creation.
All the delights that I have felt in life’s fruits and flowers, let me offer to thee at the end of the feast, in a perfect union of love.
Some have thought deeply and explored the meaning of thy truth , and they are great; I have listened to catch the music of thy play, and I am glad.
The tree is a winged spirit released from the bondage of seed, pursuing its adventure of life across the unknown.
The lotus offers its beauty to the heaven, the grass its service to the earth.
The sun’s kiss mellows into abandonment, the miserliness of the green fruit clinging to its stem.
The flame met the earthen lamp in one, and what a great marvel of light!