Alone
The Great Sage, unfathomable, free from fear
In His field stands firm. His solitude
Fulfills a throbbing pulse of world beatitude;
By those unseen, who time and space hold dear.There being One Existence for the Seer
No place is left in His placid plenitude
For shadows ‘Real’ or ‘unreal’ to occlude;
No more seems Sun to rise or set yet’s here.
How seeing Golden Sun, at play in world
Can He whose natural state is Self empowered,
Receiving precious ring, see ought than gold?
As lily flowers, so is His field endowered.
Man awake, remembers not his worldly dream
His field, the world, is a robe without a seem.
by Alan Jacobs
Categories: Poetry