Meditation Eve

Pale moon-fraught night on distant Bengal's shore

A silver luminescence robes the sea,

Opening wide the Sanctuary's door

Admits the pilgrim and the devotee.

Alone amid the multitudes we move

Beneath the welcoming arms of the Service Tree,

Trimming the lamp within the secret cove

To free the soul and ever Thy captive be.

But a thousand meditations such as these

Yield hollow fruit unless upon the swell

We leap beyond the self and swift release

The growing godhead hid within the cell.

The pulsing orange glow of an incense spire

Evokes within the fierce and cleansing fire.