Sri Aurobindo's Room

Lord of Life a new millennium dawns,

A thousand pilgrims tread the winding stairs

To bow from some deep reverence of soul

Before Thy feet and place such worldly cares

As beset the troubled heart, obscure the goal.

No sound is heard but the music of anklet bells,

Sari's swirl and the sharp intake of breath

In this quickened atmosphere where life and death

Are facets of the wakened soul's increase;

For in this hallowed room the presence dwells

And here our human fears and failings cease.

By Thee the darkness dies to deathless morns

To imprint forever in the memory of our race

The grandeur and compassion on Thy face.