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Be still, the voice of Inner Self to hear,
Beneath the din of vain distracting thought,
Intent on spawning denizens of fear,
Whose task it is to render sense to naught;
What gain be there homage to tender greed,
But to be numbered midst deluded rest
Who know not of a more enduring need,
Nor can to deeper-rooted mores attest;
Would that The Way proscribe the human choice,
His gentle counsel steeped in wholesome care;
Then shall the Norm of Goodness well rejoice,
And amity prevail beyond compare.
Be still, most blessed insight to embrace,
The promise of New Life replete with Grace.
©Meanderings 2018
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Autumn Ambles 