All Else is Vanity Except for Love

One's days are vanity; one's nights consumed 

by endless thirst for substitutes of peace.

Under the sun is nothing that is new,

And many hope in death to find release.

One's panting breath won't stop, one's heart won't still,

When that old king monotony holds sway.

Nor yet by bread is inner hunger filled--

Oblivion appears to be the way.

God's Word tells us that death is no escape,

Nor yet a torturer to inflict pain,

But a lucid and colorful mindscape 

Wherein no thing exists that is mundane.

No streets are there, no buildings, nothing 'real',

For now reality assumes a form

Of formlessness; a dancing, flaming world

Set off by a new Vision unadorned

By little sights and disconnected sounds.

All tongues are stilled, and silent is the Voice

That echoes through the canyons of the heart

Reminding one to make another choice.

And rejoin God, from whom one cannot part.

No unforgiven world exists, no truth

In lies can find a place to be at home.

And man is vain in old age and in youth,

walking through life as if he is alone.

This world you see cannot be real because

You do not really see the world at all.

By judgment is the world obscured; by sight

is it revealed--an angel cannot fall.

And so is earth but heaven unperceived

...Until it is. Pray dawn that blessed day--

When you see but the blessing and the blessed,

The face of Christ in everyone you meet,

In all of his disguises of distress--

Then is the Kingdom plainly visible,

And earth and heaven cease as separate states.

'Til then be vigilant, keep trimmed your lamps

And take care that you have sufficient oil

For even now the bridegroom draweth near.

Keep watchful with me, Angels, hearts unsoiled--

While God my Father wipes away all tears.

The Word of God is What You Are

The Word of God is what you are; His Son;

The Light of everlasting Truth and Love

You who are the Creator's Workmanship;

The evidence, the proof, of the Unseen.

The secret influence of Spirit's Grace

Works in and through all things, the very Breath

of God. Your soul is one with that Spirit; 

The inspiration, and that which inspires,

And nothing that you do or say or think 

Can change that fact. The Cause of all that is

Is also Cause of you. Considering

Your divine origin, then, Who could stay

The rising of God's Son from death's ashes?

The Bird of Liberty, which flies to Peace,

And soars over the battleground's tumult:

The Soul, the Christ in you, is very still,

But takes its cues from Spirit. When the time

Is ripe for mind's awakening, is set;

Nor can it occur a minute sooner

Or a second too late. Your Way to God

Is set as well. But will you follow It?

It merely asks you claim what is your own—

Remembering it also is your Self—

And accept nothing else. No substitute

For Love can ever fill the sense of lack;

That God-sized hole which sits within the heart;

And by its daily feeding, only grows;

Which gnaws upon the mind; and steals the rest

The nights conferred before the hole appeared.

There is one thing, which realizing, you

Will understand there never was a hole

That needed filling, for you are complete,

And ever are, as God created you:

Without Self-Love, you knew not what you sought

Nor where 'twas found. In maya's lair was caught,

The Bird, and seemed imprisoned in a cage

For a season. But Freedom's Call was heard

And Psyche, slumbering, opened an Eye

And the cage disappeared, as did the hole

That seemed to dwell within. The Soul recalled,

The State before there seemed to be a fall,

And cured the mind of Separation's sense.

God, being realized as All in all. 

And all in All, the world puzzle was solved,

For it resolved itself into the One

For whom the Universe is but Itself.

Beyond this point, words fail entirely;

Nor are they needed; all is understood

As having for its base and its support

The Everlasting Arms of Father God.