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Arthur Symons - Indian Meditation
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Where shall this self at last find happiness? 
O Soul, only in nothingness. 
Does not the Earth suffice to its own needs? 
And what am I but one of the Earth`s weeds? 
All things have been and all things shall go on 
Before me and when I am gone; 
This self that cries out for eternity 
Is what shall pass in me: 
The tree remains, the leaf falls from the tree. 
I would be as the leaf, I would be lost 
In the identity and death of frost. 
Rather than draw the sap of the tree`s strength 
And for the tree`s sake be cast off at length. 
To be is homage unto being: cease 
To be, and be at peace, 
If it be peace for self to have forgot 
Even that it is not.
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