Poems By Arjava

LUMINOUS is the void where nothing feels

The anti-self pushed back by growth within,

The blade of Light unsheathed from scabbard-skin

While thunder's answer from the Noon-Height peals.

Starved of a birthright, hell-creation heaves

In utmost darkness, lowest depth of fall :

Of trillioned atoms, each forgets the All

(Fair fronded bough crumbled to shaft and leaves).

How gain the puissant rhythm that would bind

These drooping shreds back to the unpierced Whole,

Quicken the dying sparks with that Flame Soul—

Make One no sterile void, nor Light-Source blind ?