Poems By Arjava

FROM that height above the aeons

Who down-peers ?

Where is the bourne of spaced ness.

The peak unclad with years ?

Up to the naked summit,

Where no leaf falls

Of smiles, hours, months and all brief sadness,

What echoing Vastness calls ?

Mirage of sound in the dumbness ?

A mingled speech

Woven from dream for a tribe's atoning ?

Or a God within our reach ?