The relation of mind to soul

Is like a part to the Whole.

The fool and the knave

The wise man and the slave.


The fool is in his folly content,

And the knave in his cleverness vent.

The wise man bends low without a show,

And the slave seeks but his life to save.


Each has his measure, which is his treasure.

Each one's limits and bounds travel in rounds.

Each one professes what he expresses.

Each one seeks to save that to which he is a slave.


O what is the measure of this hidden Treasure,

This Song of Life which doth each heart revive?

And the depth of this Treasure which knows no measure,

And this precious Life for which all do strive?


Who knows Life's Bell which sounds the knell

And sets a measure on all we treasure?

And how may we know, the full ear from the show

Of Life's intriguing game, so cruel and yet so tame?


When Oneness talks, the separateness balks

In the chambers of the Soul, which is the Whole,

Then doth the mind its garments rend, and pretend

To cast its spell of bondage and of hell.


A limitation wrought becomes a thought

Which heats that pot and stews the lot,

Like cauldrons in the seas or dogs full of fleas,

The mind expresses what thought professes.


And our poor soul, like a servant with a dole,

Is caught in this vice, like in frost and in ice.

The fire of Love must rise to see the folly of this vice

And in Oneness of Realization stop all differentiation.


Then doth a trumpet sound, as the Eternal Round.

'Tis the Love of the Soul which is the game of the Whole.

Then the mind's folly is nil, then Life stands still

And the Peace of the Whole permeates the Soul.


When the Soul's inner Treasure becomes Life's measure,

Then the joy from within drowns the mind's din,

And Love, like a river, flows with a shiver

Through mind, flesh and Soul, as one single Whole.


Dr Randolph Stone 1960

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