Marco Di Caprio

Dear friend, behold the treasure of Hotu Matua,
A relic held in ancient earthly fame;
It shineth fair before the eyes of men,
Yet beareth not the light of Heaven’s flame.

It glistereth bright as jewels in the sun,
And draweth hearts with glittering show;
Yet vain the glory it hath won,
For dust shall claim its praise below.

But lo, the Mystery holdeth living fire,
Ordained of God Most High above;
No mortal crown nor proud desire
May seize such power decreed in love.

The peasant soul would grasp the spark,
Yet knoweth not what light doth hide;
Therefore it resteth in the dark,
From hasty hand and untaught pride.

Touch not the chest for outward gleam,
Nor trust the splendor of its face;
For truth is deeper than it seem,
And dwelleth in a secret place.

Break thou the board that lieth beneath,
Where silence long hath made its abode;
There in the depth that sleepeth underneath
Shalt rise the whisper of the Word.