The Vision Into Which I Grow

March 11, 2011

I have lived a dream of Auroville and prayed

For peace among the scattered tribes of men.

A fateful hand upon my head was laid

That I might not relive the past again.

In my heart a deepened longing stirs

For beauty and the advent of the light,

Majestic soaring of the solemn firs

And countless stars upon the loom of night.

Here the land is difficult and hard

To penetrate its clay and gravel base

But I was called by the voice of God

And carried to this dry and barren place

To plant, to labour, that I in time might know

Myself and the vision into which I grow.