Prologue

[Bruce V]

This is a prologue to a poem of about 2000 lines I wrote.  

The world, like all things else, has its own soul,
Is by the selfsame Source created whole
And individual, as you or I,
With one set term in which to live and die--
An instrument of that one highest power
Who gives sweet purpose to our every hour.
Therefore with Earth, and with her smallest part
Are we conjoined, and held in Heaven's heart
As children all, beloved of God, and meant
To live in happy concord, each with each content
To seek our private destinies, aware
Through all our lone pursuits that we must share
Whatever God has given.  Yet few perceive
How thoroughly the spirits interweave
Their subtle essences into each force,
Each form on Earth, how gentle intercourse
Is ever maintained among the several souls
That do indwell this world that onward rolls
In seeming silence through the fields of space;
Or how the spirit of this sacred place
We call our mortal home, communicates
With every spirit that incorporates
It's light into the natural web.  And so,
Unheedful of the sweetest strains that flow
Unceasing through this realm, we too oft miss
The surest source of God's intended bliss--
That deep communion holy Nature gives
To whomsoever in her graces lives.
This tale, therefore, is but the simple tale
Of one who came to lift the mystic veil 
Which others take as Nature's truest dress,
But which the poets know does not confess
The deeper truths of life unless one's eyes
Are keen enough to see what hidden lies
Beneath the outward, lovely show things,
Into the deeps, where Life to Heaven sings.