The Red Barren Hills
When the rains come, the red barren hills
In no time become emerald green,
Covered with grass, weeds, plants, flowers and trees.
Ants, bees, butterflies and a thousand other insects
Crawl, hop and fly attracting birds and animals
From near and far, creating a stir of noisy life.
When the wind of Grace passes over a burning planet,
Little by little, the fire goes out, water appears,
Announcing the million guests of life.
As from a seed, grows the tree, so too the earth
Reveals all the hidden treasures, she holds in her bosom.
Each star, each planet, each atom of this universe
Is made of an extraordinary, fertile spirit-substance,
Contains in essence worlds of inconceivable Wonder and Beauty.
Each handful of earth pulsates with the heartbeat of the Lord.
When the hot wind blows the gardens dry up, crumble into sand.
With the coming of the rains, blooms appear from nowhere.
The earth-drama is a perpetual repetition, delightful replay,
Of God’s unfolding glory with constant variations.
In distant corners of this immeasurable universe
Other earths are waking, flourishing and falling into sleep.
The seed develops into a tree; the tree retires when tired into seed.
God recovers His memory and then after ages of enjoyment,
Plunges into oblivion, into His unfathomable trance.
Red barren hills or emerald green hills or silence of the void,
Are God’s whims, His musings, fanciful dreams and reveries,
His manifestation or sleep in His own being beyond creation.
The seed becomes a tree, man shall be immortal and divine.
The human soul climbs a step daily to God’s summit.
When the Mother Divine opens our inner eye by Her magic touch,
Then and then only
We see God’s million bodies and faces everywhere.