William L. Sherman, M.D.
Transformation - Poem by William L. Sherman, M.D.
Transformation is to find again the Love
that lights our way and dispels our darkness.
Love is that central point of Light
that indwells us always--
even in former garments of the soul--
even in other worlds born long ago--
even in future worlds yet to return.
One circle perfect, all the universe.
One circle perfect, all of time and every soul.
And circles claim one central point--
that point boundless Love and endless Light.
Only love can be our guiding light
from the Future and through this Present--
that once was built on false illusions from the Past.
The Past is not our true identity.
Our past extremity was but God's opportunity-
to fill our emptiness with the overflowing fullness
of His boundless Love and endless Light.
His perfect Love casts out our fear--
the only element, the only emotion
that can ever diminish us.
Transformation is but the reclamation
of what we always were, were born to be--
were reborn to become.
At last our center has returned
as central purpose, pointed axis
to those circles of our own creation, the circumference of our lives.
And thus the wheel of lives complete--
perfected by each spoke--
that chose to turn only towards the light.
That Love, that Light--
that axised central point--
is God in us forevermore.
He alone can fill our every need--
He alone supplies far more than bread.
From our lonely wanderings, so tangential--
He chose to turn us round to His one way.
No more sectored paths--
no more divided soul
And with Him now within us--
we can no more diminish Him.
And so begins our new Life--
Of Love and Light and Joy
within us and all around us--
all our days in the sun.
His Light is now our way--
all our darkness now dispelled and disconnected.
Our circle now complete, connected and convergent--
upon His central point of Love.
Comments about Transformation by William L. Sherman, M.D.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye