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First Day of First Week, Meher Year 66

(25th February, 1960)



Today is the same day, same moment, that countless time ago
you, dear God, awoke from ageless sleep
desiring self-knowledge, and spread out the slow
evolving universe as bubbles on the surface of your deep
Existence-Bliss. Time is world, and world revolves
around the Axis of your being, which resolves
time into timelessness―
the still recess
called heart. On you alone devolves
the task of world enlightenment—causing the light
of One-beingness to shine, putting to flight
false truths, as stars illumining the night
by lovely morning. One birth you took and take for turning
ignorance into knowledge and set all hearts burning
with love for you the Ancient, Ever-Bright.
Dawn and sunrise are every moment around the earth,
so is creation every moment in the world:
a huge dancing and a vast mirth
in which the atoms of your lovely form are whirled
in shapes and patterns self-pleasing to your eye
and in conformity
with your compassionate heart. Nothing is apart

from you. You are music, dance and poetry,

And sculptured Self in Self -imprisoned stone.
There is nothing but you. Nothing is not, you alone
EVERYTHING are: infant-smile and final moan
is you singing creation, sustaining, and breaking it
from solid settlement and making it
into that loveliness nearer your heart-tone.
Every moment is your birth: the universe
arises from it and swings upon its cyclic way,
each part longing, waiting to rehearse
its role with you in your love-play; for that glad day
of cycle's ending and that Birth of you again
as wholly God, and your boundless love to rain
upon each particle of self—your periodic Kiss,
in which is your Grace, and which alone can wipe away all stain.
This Birth I celebrate, this Word that springs
from your compassion and to all men brings
the Song of Morning and the stir of wings
in hearts; while your disciples, selfness taming,
are like hill-beacons in the pre-dawn flaming;
and all the world stands on tip-toe and sings.
Francis Brabazon



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