Was it not I who met you in a dream
When youth was waking from its dream of sleep,
And walked the halls of subtle space to sit
On your right hand upon a couch of gold.
Was it not you who came with gentle hand
To tame the fire that raged within my heart,
Begin the process to cleanse and purify,
Prepare me for the walk through many lives,
Remove the obscure veils that hide the soul?
Was it not she who garnered all the past
And saw the future possibilities,
Fierce, yet tender with a mother's love
Removed impediments to clear the way
That I might partake of her divine largesse.
The body now grows older and the years
Press down with strong and ever-increasing force,
But I refuse to yield to entropy
For the eternal has lodged in my small home
And though my flaws are legion still he waits
Patient as the moon through drifting clouds
And when he sees me in surrendered state
So gently molds the clay of God to be.
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The last line inspired by these lines from the chapter 'The Master of the Work' from The Synthesis of Yoga by Sri Aurobindo.
All that is is he, and he is the More than all that is, and we ourselves,
though we know it not, are being of his being, force of his force,
conscious with a consciousness derived from his; even our mortal
existence is made out of his substance and there is an immortal
within us that is a spark of the Light and Bliss that are for ever.
No matter whether by knowledge, works, love or any other
means, to become aware of this truth of our being, to realise it,
to make it effective here or elsewhere is the object of all Yoga.