CITY MUTE . . .

City mute: though thousandfold stirrings,

Subterranean architects, chrysolites,

Dreamers, builders, treading soil of reddened dust

From which shall spring, unaccountably

To outward eyes, the myriad whole,

Teeming with joy and delight,

To grace the body of our Mother, Earth,

For whom They came to build

The structure of a superhuman life,

Crown of this cradle of divinity,

Matrimandir of Their Light,

The Light of Her who treads with tranquil feet

Untouched, unharmed, this perilous globe,

And Him whom all the ages called--

To bear His Name in the splendour of the Dawn.

First published in Mother India - February 1972