Brahma By Ralph Waldo Emerson

BRAHMA.

  If the red slayer think he slays,
    Or if the slain think he is slain,
  They know not well the subtle ways
    I keep, and pass, and turn again.

  Far or forgot to me is near;
    Shadow and sunlight are the same;
  The vanished gods to me appear;
    And one to me are shame and fame.

  They reckon ill who leave me out;
    When me they fly, I am the wings;
  I am the doubter and the doubt,
    And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.

  The strong gods pine for my abode,
    And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
  But thou, meek lover of the good!
    Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.

Posted by: wyldwynd

Notes: Source: Ralph Waldo Emerson