𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 🤍

“Know Thyself.” These two words carry great power and meaning. If there is any poem at all that has truly touched my soul, it is this one by the American poet Angela Morgan (1875-1957). (See below for the full poem.) We are always looking outside of ourselves for our source of strength. We tend to view “God,” or whatever we choose to call this Higher Power, as an entity separate from us. All the while, we are unaware that He—this Power—dwells within us. It is a part of us, animating our limbs, thinking our every thought, saving us, guiding us, and guarding us. It is the beautiful, all-encompassing, omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient Self, closer than breathing and nearer than hands and feet. I am It. You are It. We are It. To know Oneself is to know God. 🕊

Reined by an unseen tyrant's hand,
Spurred by an unseen tyrant's will,
Aquiver at the fierce command
That goads you up the danger hill,
You cry: "O Fate, O Life, be kind!
Grant but an hour of respite—give
One moment to my suffering mind!
I can not keep the pace and live."
But Fate drives on and will not heed
The lips that beg, the feet that bleed.
Drives, while you faint upon the road,
Drives, with a menace for a goad;
With fiery reins of circumstance
Urging his terrible advance
The while you cry in your despair,
"The pain is more than I can bear!"

Fear not the goad, fear not the pace,
Plead not to fall from out the race—
It is your own Self driving you,
Your Self that you have never known,
Seeing your little self alone.
Your Self, high-seated charioteer,
Master of cowardice and fear,
Your Self that sees the shining length
Of all the fearful road ahead,
Knows that the terrors that you dread
Are pigmies to your splendid strength;
Strength you have never even guessed,
Strength that has never needed rest.
Your Self that holds the mastering rein,
Seeing beyond the sweat and pain
And anguish of your driven soul,
The patient beauty of the goal!

Fighting upon the terror field
Where man and Fate come breast to breast,
Prest by a thousand foes to yield,
Tortured and wounded without rest,
You cried: "Be merciful, O Life—
The strongest spirit soon must break
Before this all-unequal strife,
This endless fight for failure's sake!"
But Fate, unheeding, lifted high
His sword, and thrust you through to die.
And then there came one strong and great,
Who towered high o'er Chance and Fate,
Who bound your wound and eased your pain
And bade you rise and fight again
And from some source you did not guess
Gushed a great tide of happiness—
A courage mightier than the sun—
You rose and fought and, fighting, won!

It was your own Self saving you,
Your Self no man has ever known,
Looking on flesh and blood alone.
The Self that lives as close to God
As roots that feed upon the sod.
That one who stands behind the screen,
Looks through the window of your eyes—
A being out of Paradise.
The Self no human eye has seen,
The living one who never tires,
Fed by the deep eternal fires,
Your flaming Self, with two-edged sword,
Made in the likeness of the Lord,
Angel and guardian at the gate,
Master of Death and King of Fate!

#beauty #beautiful #innerbeauty #love #inspiration #thoughts #journal #diary #philosophy #psychology #psychiatry #literature #quotes #poetry #writing #art #wisdom #religion #spirituality #theology #encouragement

[JeremyLeigh]

There is in each one of us a giant, a champion, that person hidden within who knows who he or she is, and knows what has been holding it back and what has pushed it forward, knows what is its mission and has reason after reason for getting up each day and facing whatever comes along. And then there are the false versions of that self we use to get by with, our coping mechanisms, our squished down little doubles, who stifle their imagination, skulk in the back afraid of standing out, desiring some soft bed or cushioned couch.
This poem captures so well that feeling of an internal civil war: "It is your own Self driving you, /Your Self that you have never known, /Seeing your little self alone.
It is that truer, bolder, imaginative self that is the real one, and it is he or she that longs to come out and take charge, knowing it is capable of great things. It is a struggle, but every time I let that version take the lead, I never regret it.
Lubna, this poem is another example of why your channel is so worthwhile. I never would have discovered this poem on my own. You have introduced me to so many poems, ideas, and encouragement that I can't thank you enough.
💛💛💛