Frithjof Schuon Archive

You think of death with false conception.You deem it to be merely the dark endErasing everything; this life’s last misery.But rather think: death is the great change;It is the door to immortality.It must be so; it is shown by our strivingToward Eternity, and by our...

How canst thou call real what once wasAnd no longer is; the magic of destinyThat glided like a song over the lyre —Time’s play of strings; gone by, gone by.Thou callest transient what in life’s dreamWas once mortal, but then awoke to being:The soul, that the Creator...

My mind has often dwelt on the enigma “I.” Why is it I who thinks himself “I,”And not another? Why is the worldDivided into many thousand mirrors?Yet see: no one wonders at it.One blindly lives throughout the dayAnd thinks on many things, but not on this;One readily...

The place of felicity — we are told —Is like a city made of precious stones,With fairy-tale buildings, glittering palacesAnd temples that shine in purest gold.For others, paradise is a place whereBlessèd souls listen to the sound of harps,And gaze on trees in flower...