186. I Want to Be Thy Cleansed Bird of Paradise
With golden plumes of unfoldment, with the softest down of tenderness, and wearing a costume of grace, color and beauty of form, I am Thy soul-bird of paradise.
My wings of insatiable desire for progress, beat their way through life’s somber skies, continually seeking to approach the paradise of peace.
Despondency’s darkness daubs the fragile feathers of my sunny mind.
O! Bathe Thy blackened bird of paradise with the cleansing sun-rays of insight, and the soft-singing waters of peace.