Such faith, conceived by truth-revealing trials
Would open up the way for sojourn hearts
Which, too long groaning, some contend the while
And fix not, pierced through with searing darts
Of cruel despite.  The back and not the front
Too much pursued, then turns away the thought
Which, rightly meek, could otherwise wax blunt
The plaint of sorrow, though not falsely wrought.
The vale they pass, and must, which set before
Is flood with tears of loss for grace remiss
Unkindly given, faithfully now born-
Both cheeks for smiting, doubly felt love's kiss.
Forbearing calls of tempted wrath, uncouth
They still the soul with love to love in truth.

Miners do not bemoan their lot or odds
Toiling amidst the mountains for the boon
Of rare and costly things, nor curse the gods
That one is later rich, one richer soon.
Attentiveness they hold who sooner reap
The treasure that's around them secret sown
While into every crevice careful peek
To pluck what heedless others pass unknown.
Life is not slack to proffer all the glee
Of finding underfoot their stainless wealth
If but the waking heart might, pious, see
The subtle vision slipped their soul in stealth.
A fool to Fortune's ways too tempted cling
As others own great price in common things.

What is a plowman’s good who does not know
To rend the fallow starts a noble work
And sluggard helper who rose not to sow
For early rains, and still the labor shirks?
All seasons come upon a certain time
Accounting naturally important ends
Then run together, pending to adjoin
And pass one into each toward that they tend.
So bides the heart, all dispositions moved
Proportionate to their respective toil
And meets the trials of reason, thorough proved
To blend experience for richer soil.
Such faithfulness lays hold upon the tares
And garners truth in joy of harvest tears.

The carpenters, with line and cornered rule
Perfect their plan, all purposes befitting;
Discerning every plane, they make it true
To need and art, nothing good omitting.
Time, space, and material, they well acquaint
To suit what in idea they have known
And do not reckon aimlessly to joint
The forms of care which discipline bestows.
Determining at first, their soul aspires
With upright means to prove a steady norm
In outward style, contracting the attire
To fit, more solid, ‘gainst the pending storms.
All ends appraised, no castle in the air
They raise integrity’s undoubted lair.

The shifting winds of glancing pride toss-on
The ship of fools ambition ere the port
Of youth is left, though life will not disport
With careless confidence and ****** throngs.
Awake you sleepers, grab onto the helm
Of discipline and keep a watchful eye
For them false prophets' quackery that o’er whelms
The halting reason; now, the trial draws nigh.
Set sail for deeper waters, brave the depths
Of judgment, yet retain a stern relief
'gainst piercing cynicism, which has cleft
Many strong hull upon the siren’s reef.
A hero braves the dark, where Dagon preys
To pluck the pearly gem from wisdom's lay.

Seeming and unseemly, like and dislike
The teeter and the totter is such play
Of mind and meaning, cause and mirrored sight
Which founding can confound the night with day.
The child is parent to the man while life
On loss is nourished; so a fusion rules
The universe inverse, returning strife
To compound allegory, deft endued.
Now what in words the wise of men contend
Consistent with or contra-wise contrived
Truth veers centripetal as spirit bends
The line’s division into circumscribed.
So Hermes’ message, as with salty might
Transforms the fixed in point of solving light.

The trials’ invocation always lends
Two ways to go, all faithless thoughts determined;
Another’s liberty of life extends
And once encompassed, all sure hope resounds.
What outward and destructive ways are there
In boasted things and ****** aspirations
Darkens careless souls that proudly bear
The cruelty of reckless estimations;
Though as an envoy of the light there’s one
That demonstrates a proven dignity
In all the world, illumined as the Sun
Their character’s sublime prosperity.
Such paragon of peace must ever live
In conquest of the other's death and sin.

As donning faces for the shift of things
Accommodation is the passing rite
That opens up upon the newest things
Where right or wrong, as given's, always nice.
What dogma won, in things of captured worth
Then fails for certain as both night and day
Impose fierce gauntlets which, ordained by birth
Initiates into humanity.
Whether comes fair or foul, truth ever is
Between what was, perhaps that which shall be
Where nothing good's received, nothing given
Except that proven by integrity.
More prudent hearts, in seeming-self discern
What loss to own, what gains to yet forgo.

No longer bothered in the waking hours
To vex the soul with thoughts of cruel reproof
They lighten every gloom with kinder bowers
And firm affections for shared primal youth.
Life’s promises they keep and sooner turn
On admiration of a sincere care
That judges not but, ever ready, learns-
What good or bad, by name, is common shared.
So being one within a true respect
They dare no more contend with right or wrong
Nor weary coming days with old regrets
But thank the night as harbinger of song.
At last to love in truth and constant live
By word of grace, their best of care to give!

Confessing nothing rash to vainly give
An estimation of life’s fleeting span
They overcome the world and constant live
In each, uniting, as is fit to stand.
Too soon, contesting banter comes about
On winds of contradiction, outward born
For inward wreck upon the teeth of doubt
As partial men from better self are shorn.
But owning what is due in right respect
Of station that sets all among the stars
So puny, comes a night to recollect
Those cares that found and folly each discharged.
Without more striving then, their way bestows
A humble truth, in love more plainly known.

So comes the proof upon transcendent will
To study every thought and whispered care
In what is sought and how may grace distill
The phantom soul; from private ways to bear
All things of good and evil in compound
As strange concoctions are at first the mead
Of sojourn ways, from ancient roots to bound
With vital links of continuity.
No star of vacant hope to glimpse at first
Where subtle intimations strike the mind
For sacred unction, urging on a birth
Through shadowed veils of self and misty kinds.
Once found in each, born by integrity
They compass perfect care to open up
The fount of golden youth while manhood’s key
Unlocks the treasures of salvific sup.
Such ripened grace of knowing, rightly heard
Stores up the nations, garnering the world.

A vision in the heart of Man, more true
To magnify the deed and, pure as gold
Proved equity of faith in each that holds
As dung all things which strife of pride once lured.
Allied and filling up the high measure
Of righteousness, with precepts born of love
It rectifies the will, drawing treasures
From Hade’s misty shrine and dank abode.
Thereby to light their lamps and truth reflect
The awesome wonder of life’s unity
While nothing of their tears to yet regret
Nor grant a loss to love's great sanctity.
Great mystery, though measured in the known
It rises, all in each and each in all!

Who knows what by this awful sight is spied
For proofs more sturdy, sought upon the word
To shape the justice of their dawning days
And lift to yet new life the palling world?
More subtle than the silent creep of time
It slips on by like whispers of a dream
To walk amidst the hustle and the grind
Of souls, too careless snared by cruel disdain.
Not here or there with proud insistency
Nor couched in dainty flirting of the mind-
A form of light and golden verity
Clothed in itself, itself a world sublime.
Substance of being, hope without a fear
This faith, indemnified by countless tears.

Ten thousand times ten thousand worlds employed
With weight and number, light and vast devoid
Before this fairest seat could faith enjoin
As heaven’s solar dame to the sublime.
Compressed within its bowels, the work's distress
From many tons of ore brings forth one stone
Which rare carbunculus the sage invest
With value, their beloved to adorn.
But this and all true wonder has not shown
What men and women may, in time, bequeath
As one pure breath of aurum spirit, born
To comprehend and compliment the rest.
Great agony has justified the odds
In consequence of Man, revealing God!

Work is worship, since childhood
Is the lesson ingrained in my brain
When I am at work today
I found that lesson vain

Actually, it’s what kind of mentor you get
For he is responsible for all you feel
He can shape your day into a boon
Or push it into an absolute reel

Commonly, all shirks are crowned
Mostly, all wise are push aside
People do it all to be there
To become the apple of their eyes

I strongly feel at work
Your work should be your face
Deserve before you demand
Claim what is yours with grace

I lived by this principle till date
That’s why raise came to me very late
At the end of the day I am content
For work is to live; it’s not all your fate

A small child toddles across the sands of an infinite, nocturnal beach.
            His eyes glisten like the moon as he admires the wonders of his world.
Everything so simple—good—pure.
                        His mind, the inner being, reflects his outlook; all is in reach.
            The child’s heart is young, filled to its brim with Gold untarnishable.
For the sickness, innocence is the cure.

He was content, and life was complete for him.
But as he walked on the sand, and spied those who were ahead,
He wanted…
And his heart of gold began to drip.

                        A youth, only just a man, ambles across the beach’s grainy powders.
            His demeanor is confident, his face fresh, yet his eye sparkle lacks.
He keeps on, and the world, his friend, offers him promise limitless.
                        His mind is vibrant, seemingly invincible, he never shirks nor cowers.
            His heart still pumps Gold through his veins.
For the sickness, youth is the resistance.

As he continues his walk, step by step,
His ambition grows.
He feels utterly untouchable by any evils around him.
Becoming the God of his own world.
He yet still wanted.
Shaken, the young man begins to cough up the Gold.
And his heart began to bleed.
For the sickness, youth is the fuel.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
His inner man watches as the polished yellow liquid seeps
Into the barren wasteland that is his mind’s.
Deep into the dirt it creeps.
The sickness, once harmless, now binds.

With each compromise, the man’s moral skeleton cracks.
Step by step, his integrity weakens until,
With the nauseating snap of bone,
It breaks. Like a soundless scream,
Reverberating undetected in the recesses of his mind.

He no longer wants as he did before.
Regret slowly takes its place.
Shame, like an old friend, wraps the inner man in an embrace.
He offers a solution.
Vice, he promises, will fix all in time.
The man, desperate and lost, took it,
Failing to notice the chain Shame silently placed around his neck.

                        An old man, wrinkled and bent, stumbles across the beach sand.
            He is cautious, almost fearful—his eyes are dim, and his brow is heavy.
The waves rise, his body to take, he staggers and falls, unable to go further.
                        His inner man also cries ceaselessly, too weak to stand.
            His heart, now empty, aches.
To the sickness, he gives in without a murmur.

His inner man falls silent, the tears, like ghosts of his emotions,
Float silently down his face.
Frantically he sinks to his knees and begins to dig at the dirt,
Searching for a single remaining drop of Gold.
But none is to be found.

Shame stands smiling grimly as
The sickness overpowers,
And the inner man falls into the dust,
Lucid eyes staring searchingly at the empty hole,
His tears form streams as they flow into it.

He stares,
As from the hole,
A seedling flairs,
With leaves of Gold.

A hand, too warm, too soft to be Shame’s,
Falls on his arm.
The tears vanish from his face,
And a majestic warmth fills his body.
Regret gives way to content once again.

                        The old man on the beach rises slowly to his feet.
            He stands straight, as the wrinkles retreat into his skin, and his eyes fill with light.
His countenance becomes regal as youth returns to his step.
                        His mind renewed, he sees with a wonder that he will keep.
            He runs, seeing the end of the beach in his sight.
His heart refills, as the seedling matures, and he remembers, with a solemn thankfulness, of the man he left.

As he finishes the race.