Gleams of white Light begin
To penetrate the secret of the Earth.
Choirs of mysterious voices
Scarcely perceptible yet in insistent
And disturbing beauty
Waken us from sleep.
For all the words Poets have sung
And the wise spoken shine
With new meaning now
To those who listen
Tuned to the Music of the Morning.
And the aeonian darkness of Men
Knowing not who they are
Pales in the dawning of Enlightenment.


Marcgaret Forses.

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