Nightly in your room
You watch for a white star
That whispered long ago
Of an ancient quest.
Yours are young eyes
Which seldom rise,
Eyes that beseech
For some noble thing
Some heroic measure.
On your altar
A portrait of the master
Behind the candle light
Illuminating amid your skirmishes
On the field of concentration.
Children once free
We turned into proud liegemen.
The valiant fight for their country,
Some for duty, others for gold.
Yet who can hear the precept:
“One’s enemies will be
members of one’s household.”
This night the cup is filled.
Your vigil evokes four trumpets
From near and far
Resounding where you are.
Cosmic child
Far from home
Do you remember circling together
Among the moons of Jupiter?
The royal call
White flowers blown
From the dogwood tree,
Angels of your emerging symphony.
It now demands more than before
More than skill and sacrifice
Nay, your very heart.
What shall eternally fulfill
But the adventure set only for you
The all-consuming quest
For Self-Realization.
