The Lotos Inside

Through the tumult and the storm,
And the pressure of the world outside,
Inside is the sunlight rich and warm;
A lotos grows in the world inside,

And perfumes the air with its scent
As soft and tender as an infant's dreams.
It makes the harshest innocent,
And in the sunlight with pale fire gleams.

Through the whispers and the glances,
Through the world's hate and scorn,
Inside the immortal lotos dances;
Inside gentle and clear thoughts are born,

And go chasing round and round
Upon the enchanted, sweetened breeze.
The lotos brings all winged fears to ground,
And casts despair into the sun-warmed seas.

Through the forgetfulness of the great,
Through honoring of the common muck,
Inside the lotos softens and tangles hate;
Inside the the lotos dreams of its luck

To be born in this place and time,
This stage of the world's endless story.
It grows all over the tear-filled rhyme,
And blooms delighting in its own glory.