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Oct 2015
Brahma
BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON
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,
      I am 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.
No one gets away with anything. Peace.
Don Bouchard
Written by
Don Bouchard  65/M/Minnesota
(65/M/Minnesota)   
782
     Don Bouchard, --- and Steve
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