LETTER LI. The April of the World

THE APRIL OF THE WORLD

HAVING told you last week that you must die, according to the jargon of the earth, I now want to assure you that you can never really die at all; that you are as immortal as the angels, as immortal as God Himself.

No, that is not a contradiction.

I have spoken before of immortality: it was always a favourite theme of mine; but since my association with the Beautiful Being it has become for me an exultant consciousness.

The Beautiful Being lives in eternity, as we fancy that we live in time. Will you write down here another of that angel’s chants?

When you see me in the green trees and in the green light under trees, know that you are near to me:

When you hear my voice in the silence, know that I speak for you.

The immortal loves to speak to the immortal in the mortal, and there is joy in calling to the joy which dozes in the heart of a soul of earth.

When joy is awake, the soul is awake.

You look for God in the forms of men and women, and sometimes you find Him there;

But you look for me in your own soul; the deeper the gaze, the fairer the vision.

Yes, I am in Nature, and I am in you, when you look for me there;

For Nature is dual, and the half you carry within you.

All things are one and dual--even I, and that is why you may find me.

Oh, the charm of being free, to wander at will round the earth and heaven, and through the souls of men!

I am lighter than the thistle-down, but more enduring than the stars:

The permanent is impalpable, and only the impalpable endures.

The road is not long which leads to the castle of dreams; the far-away is nearer than next-door, but only the dreamer finds it.

When labour is light, the pay is sure; when the days are hard, their reward is tardy.

Be glad, and I will repay you.

I would write my name on the leaves of your heart, but only the angels can read the writing.

Who bears my unknown name on the petals of his heart is accepted among the angels for the flower he is; his perfume reaches heaven.

There is pollen in the heart, child of earth, and it fructifies the flowers of faith;

There is faith in the soul, child of time, and it bears the seeds of all things.

The seasons come and the seasons go, but the spring-time is eternal.

I can find that in you which was lost in the April of the world.