Godhead From Our Clay Poem by Richard (Narad) Eggenberger

Godhead from our Clay

What sudden arrow from the bow of God
Has pierced so deep this dense unknowing breast,
What fire torched the fortress of the heart
And forced the doors of soul ajar and blessed
As might an ancient tree whose kindly boughs
Protect and shelter give and nourishment,
With rain of Grace this parched and dormant soil
That little understood divine intent
Yet moved to rhythms native to higher spheres
While outwardly engrossed in matter's play,
To storm the seas and sail to eastern shores
And wake to the sun of a near yet distant day
When all the masks are torn, and truth revealed.
The divinising substance here at play,
At work to mould the supramental man
Sculpts the godhead from our mortal clay.