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Re: Theos-World Who Will Answer? : Does Theosophy Give Us the Answers?

Apr 25, 2005 08:03 PM
by Cass Silva


The Spectator

I watch the storms in the trees above:
after days of mild decaying
my windows shrink from their assaying,
and the things I hear the distance saying,
without a friend I find dismaying,
without a sister cannot love.

There goes the storm to urge and alter,
through forest trees and through time's tree;
and nothing seems to age or falter:
the landscape, like an open psalter,
speaks gravely of eternity.

How small the strife that's occupied us,
how great is all that strives with us!
We might, if, like the things outside us,
grow spacious and anonymous.

We conquer littleness, obtaining
success that only makes us small,
while, unconstrained and unconstraining,
the permanent eludes us all:

R Rilke

Cass: The Poet who communicates what is silent
and unites what is divided.

"Daniel H. Caldwell" <danielhcaldwell@yahoo.com> wrote:


Who Will Answer? 
A song made popular in 1967 in the
USA by Ed Ames

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!, Hallelujah!

>From the canyons of the mind, 
We wander on and stumble blindly
Through the often-tangled maze 
Of starless nights and sunless days, 
While asking for some kind of clue
Or road to lead us to the truth, 
But who will answer?

Side by side two people stand, 
Together vowing, hand-in-hand 
That love's imbedded in their hearts, 
But soon an empty feeling starts 
To overwhelm their hollow lives, 
And when they seek the hows and whys, 
Who will answer? 

On a strange and distant hill, 
A young man's lying very still. 
His arms will never hold his child, 
Because a bullet running wild
Has struck him down. And now we cry, 
"Dear God, Oh, why, oh, why?" 
But who will answer? 

High upon a lonely ledge, 
a figure teeters near the edge, 
And jeering crowds collect below 
To egg him on with, "Go, man, go!" 
But who will ask what led him 
To his private day of doom, 
And who will answer? 

If the soul is darkened
By a fear it cannot name, 
If the mind is baffled 
When the rules don't fit the game, 
Who will answer? Who will answer? Who will answer? 
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!, Hallelujah!

In the rooms of dark and shades, 
The scent of sandalwood pervades.
The colored thoughts in muddled heads 
Reclining in the rumpled beds
Of unmade dreams that can't come true, 
And when we ask what we should do, 
Who... Who will answer?

'Neath the spreading mushroom tree, 
The world revolves in apathy
As overhead, a row of specks 
Roars on, drowned out by discotheques, 
And if a secret button's pressed 
Because one man has been outguessed, 
Who will answer? 

Is our hope in walnut shells 
Worn 'round the neck with temple bells,
Or deep within some cloistered walls 
Where hooded figures pray in halls?
Or crumbled books on dusty shelves,
Or in our stars, or in ourselves, 
Who will answer?

If the soul is darkened 
By a fear it cannot name, 
If the mind is baffled 
When the rules don't fit the game, 
Who will answer? Who will answer? Who will answer? 
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!, Hallelujah! 










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