The split in Self is
seen so clear,
And yet recoils in mortal fear
From any touch that seeks to bring
A healing to the wound within.
Twixt good and bad
the players set
And rise to make their triumph, yet,
A tiny voice keeps up the cry
That truth is found within the I.
So peace and wisdom, love and truth
Stand on one side, placed well aloof
And rage, and vengeance, basest thought
Will hold their ground, no matter what.
The ‘I’ rides grace and then will leap
The fence to fly upon deceit
And all the while knows neither can
Hold sure, swift hoof on flimsy ground.
That day will come when each will find
Then disappear in new-born mind,
And truth of each is made anew,
The ‘I’ becomes, eternal ‘You.’
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