Gedichte der Hoheren Kraft

Poems of Higher Power   by Carrie Seib

Eden Publishing house was the last of it’s kind.   Created by the Lutheran Synod Germans of St Louis as a way to create text-books, hymnals, and popular fiction.   With titles such as “Lincoln was a Hoosier, A slave in Europe, and Martin Luther Biographies, the Eden School, which had been a way to train the young German Lutherans in religious studies locally had began to branch away from it’s roots and became a Non-denominational Seminary school.   The Publishing company was finished by 1977.   

However in a strange twist, a well connected young Doctor who served his community at Lutheran Medical hospital asked for 5000 copies of 3 volumes of poetry created by his mother.   The family had spent years since her death in 1969, transcribing the poetry to text. George Seib, with his Aunt Pauline and her daughter Alma on typewriter, created a homage to a woman who had drastically changed each of their lives.   

  The book was edited with an English introduction.  Paid for by George, printed in Argentina then shipped to the basement at 2323 Lafayette Ave.  George would spend the next few years buying stamps and packaging, then sent the book, literally everywhere.   Olin library at Washington University, his old school, still has Volume 2 in their German collection. Wisconsin, New York, Dubai, Australia, many places in Germany, England, and the list goes on.   I imagine the many librarians who in 1976 to 1979 opened the package, saw the Dr. George Seib label, listed the booki as “German Poetry” and then forgot about it, as it circulated the dusty basements un-checked for 30 years.   It seems it was only the St Louis Library system that read carefully the tags and English biography and placed it in it’s proper location. Metaphysical Spirit Writing.

 

  The content was indeed “channeled” poetry.  Beginning in 1923, Carrie Seib would sit at a desk with a linen pad in front of her, meditate herself into a trance like state, then write.   She speaks several times about a past life as a male poet. Her wisdom and narrative would shift through the years. I have no idea how many poems she wrote between 1923 and 1964, but it appears as if several filing cabinets contain boxes and boxes of her poems.  Very little of the this work has been properly translated into English. An attempt was made using translating software to get the “gist” of her words and philosophy. Within her work is a philosophy I out-line here.  

REINCARNATION by Carrie Seib

When I came back on earth 

And all was strange to me, 

I began to speak, if only I could say. 

But no one stifled me, 

It was silent around my precious, 

The new parents, who had now given me 

But not the great light, was given. 

That the other life gave me 

The rich encouragement was more given 

And stronger it is now in fire, 

It brings many others still in the flames.

At last the bright light brings forth the science. 

The once-long-drawn-out lines of the parchment, 

It is the writing which is preserved only in great walls, 

It is the poet who once walked on earth long before, 

When all the writings of this time 

Written and read. 

But now he comes to the forefront only after many thousand years. 

And describes the time of eternity, 

He is as new-born. 

So I am now well-known, 

I am no longer unrelated,

With my new writing hand. 

It wants to go and do better 

Soon the marriage will end

That was expensive and had high value. 

1 August 1924.

Google Translate version

An effort to have her work translated is in the works.   What unknown wisdom and words are there? It is a mystery to be solved.  Her work was strong enough to cause her son a great deal of money to preserve her legacy, he and the family understood her  German and honored it as truth. I will leave everyone with some of her work.  


THE CLOCK 

(book 2, page 655)

written December 1939 by Carrie Seib

1.

There is still a tracking of his age, 

That turns with the present clock, 

But a man sees the world no longer, Where he lived quite free in the sea. 

It lies dry in the dust, 

and moisturizes the skin. 

I am a man who has been watched, 

who appears to you with the water-fish. But time lives fast 

And brings the profit to the mind. 

Only one power has made all the world, Which creates in life all the twists. 

Thus I teach only my own lady. 

(Carrie’s self possibly speaking to her.) 

whom I embrace with the dry frame. 

It still has to show you how many coats we give you. 

Still, you’re marriage is yours and becomes ghosts and laughs. 

Where a lady knows all the ways. 

And does not harm any of mankind, 

Be all the truth given to you, 

Before your foot dedicates itself to the stone. 

I still savored you to the side, 

And spoke in words to thee with joy, Though a fish knows thee again, 

To whom thou professest the color?

Only a lady goes where the splendor of the colors is. 

So I follow her still today, 

But be your own child in spirit high. 

There is no new flesh on the tree. 

So I lift you up again, 

But speak a word in the Grojahon* conversation. 

It still has colors that God treasons.

So I only hold up the boat, 

Where I once gave the world dry land, 

A foot where water touches him, 

But his body is only water with a fee. 

And all the walls are made of the skin, That dry places fastens him with pain. Only fire is covered with worms, 

Because dry it does everything. 

So be a fire-sign, because you are consecrated to the Holy Spirit. 

And dry is a leaf in autumn, 

Because water then falls into snow flakes. 

And trees make their outer death 

And fall fearfully in need. 

But there my spirit is coalesced, 

Where we unite our strength. 

And all the values are counted, 

That none of them is ever there, 

When all the rivers are torn, 

And the earth is weakened in the lake. Only a thousand thousand pays a mash, where I have already passed ten times. So I come where you speak in the light, Who freely in life is in certainty?

No Grojahon* is cowardly, if he knows thee of water. 

But today is a way paved, 

Where never before the world was. 

Only openly I lay the book, 

When I search in real values. 

No one else can be a witness, 

Alas I, a God in the Spirit alone. 

And watch God lift your eyes, 

That thou mayest understand the eternal course, 

Where I bring only such works, 

Those of a world, and a little, 

Yet an eternity, 

Where thy spirit goeth in the light. 

Nor is the foot still in your shoe, 

But be quick in the book. 

It has a spirit the right of God, 

That He may destroy the fog of a church.

2.

There is still a spirit in high form, 

And reaches out of the water in the forest, 

Where his desire reaches him is the gift, And green leaves soon dwells with root. But the space between the water and the sleep in the long dream, 

only One power made the tree and the branch, 

But no man came from an Ape.

Only a certain animal could be close to the other, but be a man of the high sense. A step to the bottom is a picture of the monkey in the turmoil. 

Only a wind comes the same way, 

but the lower one grasps the power in the air. 

He may have similar bones, 

but the value of man is in the gifts. 

There is never a clear meaning in the game, 

where monkeys reach for the stalk. 

Only a breath of omnipotence passes through the human plan. 

But every one can stand where he can get hold of. 

Many a train may well be the same to man, 

but he always counts in a monkey kingdom. 

So be a watchman full in the coat and hair, 

But an eye speaks clearly in the sense. Only be a body of the earth 

Shoe And Spirit alone lives evermore. Thus Darwin has once again recruited his watch-art, 

and stands wisely the high steps. 

Where a deity stands in long questions is a life worth the high gifts. 

Still, every spirit of our own power goes along to strive for the path of high doctrine. 

To some a man is quite free from gifts, but only a moment of his power is available to him. 

If a power encompassed him, 

And lets him think in his life time, 

a value is clear to every spirit, 

but striving is a temporal word in the divine.

Where only one watchmaker knows the masks, 

Which never separated mankind, 

at least the good of God’s power, 

That strong protection always watches them. 

And all the gongs are open to the dark delusion.

But rarely a light is to be hoped. 

There is always a creeping lurk, 

whether there is a hanging. 

Where a course of pressure is loosening And do not rest hourly, 

There is another one to the monkey’s life 

Hanging only in the wood. 

But there is a force in the same purpose,

but he always wants another way. 

It holds the spirit in a different form, 

Even more hard pressed his arm with power. 

The soul never speaks in a shell, but it is always without wisdom. 

Thus a monkey hangs only on the branch, but no man has his existence from the Ape. 

Only at all times is life of all life’s powers, 

Where step by step the omnipotence reaches the doctrine. 

Then a miracle emerges in the human life, 

Where only an entrance before the monkey

And some still have baskets empty, 

But similarity to the other difficultly. 

Only the content is worth the value, 

so that no man is to be called Ape. 

Where pure cloths cover all values, 

Be sure to put hair on the watchworld. 

I am dignified in all the higher senses of old times, but my fur went there. 

Man reaches for the dress. 

Such a change took the long run, 

and many a lake was still standing up as a mountain. 

And such paths are the clock world in the course often, 

But is only time as a sea, 

In Atlantis I hoped. 

Many a stream of noble power is still entering thee, 

but such a miracle attracts a god’s only home. 

Where stars in the sign interpret your works, are not people here on the angels’ guide,

Another period of time distinguishes different levels, 

so the colors of old people are still to be called. 

Who knew an Atlantian still in the body?

Who was warned when coming with the scream? 

But rarely did a woman find the free way. 

There was always a barrack at the hearth. 

And Same with the woman was alien, 

Only man was always called the Nam. 

A step of time had already advanced, 

the plan of the future became quite different. 

But the world took the stosz* very hard 

And my Atlantian was completely written. 

Thus, only time keeps the distance still far, 

but a God loves the new humanity. 

Only a high man may rise up today, 

That all can exist in the world. 

Be a work for every spirit of the world, 

but rarely is there time to rest, 

Only the eternal march continues. 

So be a tree with a crown and a branch, That all the world knows the spirits of the spirits, 

And no Atlanta calls a fable. 

It was only a door of science to be shown, as now and then the power tends to bite and break the world often a few rifts, 

Only bitter salts are every biscuit.

* Grojahon and Stosz have a lost indication amd translation.

The use of “Atlanta” remains a confusing notion that might have to do with the greek goddess or Atlantis. You decide. 

This is a Google Translate translation, so take it as a possible indication of understanding her philosophy

, not directly a perfect example