The following is a poem attributed to the 18th century Maori poet Tieme Ranapiri from New Zealand. It was translated into English by Kere Graham.
The sun may be clouded, but ever the sun
Will sweep on its course till the cycle is run.
And when into chaos the system is hurled,
Again shall the Builder rebuild a new world.
Your path may be clouded, uncertain your goal;
Move on, for your orbit is fixed to your soul.
And although it may lead you through darkness of night,
The torch of the Builder shall give it new light.
You were, you will be, know this while you are,
Your spirit has travelled both long and afar.
It rose from the source, to the source it returns.
The spark which was lighted eternally burns.
It slept in a jewel, it leapt in a wave,
It roamed in the forest, it rose from the grave.
It took on strange garbs for long eons of years,
And now in the soul of yourself it appears.
From body to body your spirit speeds on.
It seeks a new form when the old one is gone.
And the form that it finds is the fabric you wrought
On the loom of the mind from the fibre of thought.
As dew is drawn upwards in rain to descend,
Your thoughts drift away and in destiny blend.
You cannot escape them for, petty or great
Or evil or noble, they fashion your fate.
Somewhere on this planet, somewhere or somehow,
Your life is reflecting your thoughts of your NOW!
My law is unerring, no blood an atone,
The structure you built you will live in alone.
From cycle to cycle, through time and through space,
Your lives with your longings will ever keep pace.
And all that you ask and all you desire
Must come at your bidding, as flame out of fire.
Once list’ to that voice and all tumult is done,
Your life is the life of the infinite One.
In the hurrying race you are conscious of pause,
With love of the purpose and love for the cause.
You are your own devil, you are your own God,
You fashioned the paths that your footsteps have trod,
And nothing will save you from error or sin
Until you have harked to the spirit within.