The never-taken-thought-for climate outside,
nice, unopposed, convenient mortal life, nice.
How long can this go on?
The darkening clouds of mortal belief,
the warning (or mourning) of materialism's reward,
of unchecked thoughts.
Sin and death is what these brought,
and bring.
The rushing of the unknown wind,
the onslaught of suggestion (merely,
merely belief in matter)
either uprooting us or
making us hold tighter to the rock of Truth.
The torrential rain of fear, self-will, and pride.
(What will be the outcome?)
Floods? Destruction? Waste, emptiness, disease?
Or
irrigation for the seeds of progress?
Harnessed
and used for our advance.
Reservoirs understanding-filled to be drawn upon
when error takes another stance.
How long to wait?
Why? Why how long?
When should we stop working for Truth?
When should we expect our reward?
Do we yield before the blessing is complete?
Or do we walk onward and upward—doing, watching, praying
(being)—
with purer feet?
With heroic form
we onward march, and meet—as masters—
the belief called "storm."
