I WILL MEET one day the Life within me, the joy that hides in my life, though the days perplex my path with their idle dust.
I have known it in glimpses, and its fitful breath has come upon me making my thoughts fragrant for a while.
I will meet one day the Joy without me that dwells behind the screen of light-and will stand in the overflowing solitude where all things are seen as by their creator.

THE WAR drums are sounded.
Men force their features into frightfulness and gnash their teeth;
and before they rush out to gather raw human flesh for death's larder,
they march to the temple of Buddha, the compassionate,
to claim his blessings,
while loud beats the drum rat-a-tat
and earth trembles.
They pray for success;
for they must raise weeping and wailing
in their wake, sever des of love,
plant flags on the ashes of desolated homes,
devastate the centres of culture
and shrines of beauty,
mark red with blood their trail
across green meadows and populous markets,
and so they march to the temple of Buddha, the compassionate,
to claim his blessings,
while loud beats the drum rat-a-tat
and earth trembles.
They will punctuate each thousand of the maimed and killed
with the trumpeting of their triumph,
arouse demon's mirth at the sight
of the limbs torn bleeding from women and children;
and they pray that they may befog minds with untruths
and poison God's sweet air of breath,
and therefore they march to the temple of Buddha, the compassionate,
to claim his blessings,
while loud beats the drum rat-a-tat
and earth trembles.

THE MIST is like the earth's desire.
It hides the sun for whom she cries.