Transcending; Three Songs for Michael Dash in memoriam

The cat went here and there
And the moon spun round like a top,
And the nearest kin of the moon
The creeping cat looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
For wander and wail as he would
The pure cold light in the sky
Troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass,
Lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet
What better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
Tired of that courtly fashion,
A new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
From moonlit place to place,
The sacred moon overhead
Has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
Will pass from change to change,
And that from round to crescent,
From crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
Alone, important and wise,
And lifts to the changing moon
His changing eyes.

To be calm, to be serene! There is the calmness of the lake when
there is not a breath of wind; there is the calmness of a stagnant
ditch. So is it with us. Sometimes we are clarified and calmed
healthily, as we never were before in our lives, nat by an opiate,
but by some unconscious obedience to the all-just laws,so that we
become like a still lake of purest crystal and without an effort our
depths are revealed to ourselves. All the world goes by us and is
reflected in our deeps. Such clarity! obtained by such pure means!
by simple living, by honesty of purpose. We live and rejoice. I
awoke into a music which no one about me heard. Whom shall I
thank for it? The luxury of wisdom! The luxury of virtue! Are
there any intemperate in these things? I feel my Maker blessing
me. To the sane man the world is a musical instrument. The very
touch affords an exquisite pleasure.

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!