DEEP IN SUN SEARCHED GROWTHS

The torrid rains are over, bright Sun begins to shine;
Locust flies seem horrid, swarming in God’s light,
Hanging like a curtain, clouding out clear sight.
Squadrons manoeuvre; is this perhaps some sign
Of locust ego ‘I’s, veiling Real Self sublime?
Golden sunset falls, I enter soul’s dark night,
Some insects soon die off, or swiftly take to flight,
Clarity dawns from Real Self benign, divine.

If we wish to maintain our sanity,
And not obscure Real Self through egotism,
We need surrender to God all vanity;
For living from ‘false me’ is stigmatism.
Far better to live from the Self Supreme,
Pure Consciousness! and awaken from life’s dire dream!