The sun may be clouded yet ever the sun will sweep on its course till the cycle is run, and when into chaos the system is hurled,
again shall the builder reshape a new world.
Your path may be clouded, uncertain your goal,
move on, for your orbit is fixed to your soul,
and though it may lead into darkness of night
the torch of the builder shall give it new light.
You were, you will be, know this while you are
your spirit has travelled both long and afar.
It came from the source to the source it returns,
the spark which was lighted eternally burns.
It slept in a jewel, it leaped in a wave,
it roamed the forest,
it rose from the grave,
it took on strange garb for long aeons of years
and now in the soul of yourself it appears.
From body to body your spirit speeds on
it seeks a new form when the old one has gone
and the form that it finds is the fabric you wrought
on the loom of the mind from the fibre of thought.
As dew is drawn upward in rain to descend
your thoughts drift away and in destiny blend.
You cannot escape them, for petty or great,
or evil or noble, they fashion your fate.
Somewhere on some planet, sometime and somehow
your life will reflect your thoughts of your now.
My law is unerring, no blood can atone,
the structure you built you will live in - alone.
From cycle to cycle through time and through space
your lives with your longings will ever keep pace
and all that you ask for and all that you desire
must come at your bidding as flame out of fire.
Once list' to that voice and all tumult is done
your life is the life of the Infinite One.
In the hurrying race you are are conscious of pause
with love for the purpose and love for the cause.
You are your own devil, you are your own God
you fashioned the paths your footsteps have trod,
and no one can save you from error or sin
until you have hark'd to the spirit within.
(Attributed to a highly spiritual unknown Maori of New Zealand many, many years ago)
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