Oh, I could worship Indra’s rise
In roaring, rain-bound thunder,
And Rudra’s wild, capricious eyes
That split the sky asunder.
Their glory flows in cloud-packed skies
And wakes my weary wonder.
Yet all their virile glories bloom
In Gaia’s soft receiving,
And I could love her earthly womb,
Her fecund grace perceiving.
Could die into her pregnant tomb
To rise in her believing.
And Chronos, higher yet somehow,
All lives and lands surrounding,
In balanced, glorious, fluid Tao
Rolls worlds and worlds abounding.
That motion of forever now
Assuring and astounding.
Yet t’ward what final life and mind
Might this dread logic shove me:
To One creating worlds and time
Above all gods above me.
Oh may I glimpse that one Divine
And gasp to find He love me.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *