From our tempered steel will shine golden rays.
To guide the children of those future days
Through the Age of Darkness, by that flashing spark,
Struck when chisel meets stone, illuming the dark.
And the mark of the Master who dropped hammer to blade
Will remain through the Ages. It can never fade.
For it is only struck upon that heart which is true
And I think, if you look, you’ll find it beating in you.
Categories: Poetry
Winter Solstice Sadhana, Nineteen Seventy-One,
We went to Florida to enjoy the sun
At the ashram of Baba Siri Chand,
Under the green trees, beside the pond.
We set the camp and pitched our tents
To enjoy, together, that great event.
Categories: 3HO History, Our Stories
Tags: 1971, Beads of Truth, Beads of Truth - 1972-Summer-Bead 14, Poetry, Winter Solstice, Winter Solstice-1971
We met and he decided that with a beard and turban, I was not qualified to be a police officer. We went ’round and ’round, but I realized that it was a losing battle. I turned in my badge. Then, I went whining to Yogi Bhajan.
” Why do you want to say ‘Yes, Sir!’ all your life? Let’s start our own company. Then we will hire the police and the army officers and they will say ‘Yes, Sir!’ to you.”
Read: "Job Security"Categories: Our Stories
Many times we have walked together, many times you’ve set me right
And this time I’ll deliver with the shining radiance of Guru’s Light.
Categories: Poetry
For the Call of Duty he rises each day,
Though his body cries out and begs to stay,
But Duty is his Sovereign, so he serves to obey,
Then, with bright eyes flashing he enters the fray.
Categories: Our Stories, Poetry
The Time is right now; the New Age has arrived,
Where the way of the Guru is the way to survive.
For God in His perfection, took a simple stone
And polished it through the Ages, it is the only One,
Then the sacred Kundalini He carefully placed inside
And set it on the Earth with all His Joy and Pride
And that gem of a Yogi has brought the Word of the Guru
To all those fallen angels, who are simply, me and you.
Categories: Our Stories, Poetry
The touch of the master is what brought us here,
Through Maya’s illusion, through doubt and fear,
We have followed him through this long, dark night,
To awaken from the dream and face the light.
Now the time has come, we must rise and stand,
And reverently take the reins from his steady hand,
This is the birthday gift that would mean the most.
Categories: Our Stories, Poetry
The three arrived from the East that day.
They had come to gather the people to say:
“We’re here in order to take a stand,
We’re here in order to change this land.
This nation is sick, its direction wrong.
We three have come to gather the strong.”
What three could make a statement so bold?
Their presence had left you with nothing untold.
These three that stood and walked as one:
Magnificence of spirit; sons of the sun.
Categories: Our Stories, Poetry
