TO AN ASTROLOGERNay, seer, I do not doubt thy mystic lore,Nor question that the tenor of my life,Past, present, and the future, is revealedThere in my horoscope. I do believeThat yon dead moon compels the haughty seasTo ebb and flow, and that my natal starStands like a stern-browed sentinel in spaceAnd challenges events; nor lets one grief,Or joy, or failure, or success, pass onTo mar or bless my earthly lot, untilIt proves its Karmic right to come to me.All this I grant, but more than this Iknow!Before the solar systems were conceived,When nothing was but the unnamable,My spirit lived, an atom of the Cause.Through countless ages and in many formsIt has existed, ere it entered inThis human frame to serve its little dayUpon the earth. The deathless Me of me.The spark from that great all-creative fire,Is part of that eternal source called God,And mightier than the universe.Why, heWho knows, and knowing, never once forgetsThe pedigree divine of his own soul,Can conquer, shape, and govern destiny,And use vast space as ’twere a board for chessWith stars for pawns; can change his horoscopeTo suit his will; turn failure to success,And from preordained sorrows, harvest joy.There is no puny planet, sun, or moon,Or zodiacal sign which can controlThe God in us! If we bringthatto bearUpon events, we mould them to our wish;’Tis when the infinite ’neath the finite gropesThat men are governed by their horoscopes.
Nay, seer, I do not doubt thy mystic lore,Nor question that the tenor of my life,Past, present, and the future, is revealedThere in my horoscope. I do believeThat yon dead moon compels the haughty seasTo ebb and flow, and that my natal starStands like a stern-browed sentinel in spaceAnd challenges events; nor lets one grief,Or joy, or failure, or success, pass onTo mar or bless my earthly lot, untilIt proves its Karmic right to come to me.
All this I grant, but more than this Iknow!Before the solar systems were conceived,When nothing was but the unnamable,My spirit lived, an atom of the Cause.Through countless ages and in many formsIt has existed, ere it entered inThis human frame to serve its little dayUpon the earth. The deathless Me of me.The spark from that great all-creative fire,Is part of that eternal source called God,And mightier than the universe.
Why, heWho knows, and knowing, never once forgetsThe pedigree divine of his own soul,Can conquer, shape, and govern destiny,And use vast space as ’twere a board for chessWith stars for pawns; can change his horoscopeTo suit his will; turn failure to success,And from preordained sorrows, harvest joy.
There is no puny planet, sun, or moon,Or zodiacal sign which can controlThe God in us! If we bringthatto bearUpon events, we mould them to our wish;’Tis when the infinite ’neath the finite gropesThat men are governed by their horoscopes.