Call of the Flute Soft by my side and calm she lay Warm against the driving rain That chilled the heart of the waking day And I knew we'd not go back again, To a life half-conscious, half-aware Half-lost in the finite dreams of earth With the psychic being standing there And the hour come of the soul's rebirth. Now with the call of a crystal flute The moment arrives and shall not flee, Silent and in the silence mute We will to set the caged birds free To fly to Her feet and there alight In Her golden ray upborne from Night.

Darshan Day - White Memories We walked in wonder there amongst the flowers, Passing white-clad devotees whose eyes Upon some inner world were fiercely set, Inhaled the incense rising towards the skies And by his tomb forgot the passing hours. White-washed walls whose still solemnity Broken by cascading boughs in bloom The caw of crows, the workers sweeping leaves,- Yet all was stillness in the inner room As Grace descended through the Service Tree. We have memories more magical than breath Or the rhythm of the slow heart's pulsing beat,

Looking to Light And if we die achieving not the goal That lured us from our deep and distant sleep, The important thing - to love while we have breath And wonder in our hearts at simple things And gratitude for the vision she instilled By a power beyond our human littleness. Touching now the twilight of our lives A prayer unfolds around the wisp of soul That beacons to the parent signal light, A call for deeper depths and higher heights, For offering's increase and waning needs, To still the mind, to calm the vital pulse Surrendering to That which brought us forth From the seas

Psychological Perfection - Plumeria 9/9/99-9 a.m. Five-petalled perfection, flower in our being, Illumine our faltering sight with a deeper seeing, Perfect our lives and with thy fragrance bless Our blossoming many-petalled consciousness.

On The Far Horizon Gazing across the landscapes of the mind, The battlefield of dead and wounded dreams A momentary illusive calm descends, For on the far horizon there ascends A golden path bordered by golden streams The way of the child and the warrior kind.

Childhood Miracle As large wide eyes of childhood viewed with wonder A finite world that seemed infinity, I looked upon my fevered mother dying. No medicine could quell that body's fire, And prayers were vent and ever reaching higher Chants were sung mid voices softly crying For one so young to leave her family. Then a monk was called to drive the demons under. We looked upon a tall and saintly man Dressed all in black with clothing none too new, Enter in silence and in silence stand. As frankincense filled our tearful eyes with smoke He moved to her bed and in a whisper

Samadhi Kneeling there unburdening our cares Offering the little that we are, The flowers' fragrance mixing with our prayers - Of the transformation occurring silently Little is known by mind or can be known While the incessant wheels revolve interminably And the subtle sounds of gods walk by unheard By all but those stalwart souls who consciously Progress in splendour, radiant and alone.

Sri Aurobindo - Lord of Life 11.2.99 A Lord of Love beyond our joy and bale Yet intimate with every life's detail, Failures great and small and all our sorrowed History upon the human road. A God descended from immortal spheres To new direct the earth to golden years Cement the foundation of infinity By his compassionate divinity.

At The Samadhi Only the sound of sadhaks sweeping leaves, Feet bare, backs bent low and the intermittent Caw of Indian crows breaking the peace - Coarse brooms, their swishing motion meticulously Across the concrete, now across the soil. Flower bedecked Samadhi silently Accepts the prayers of supplicants while bees Sated among the flowers slowly fly From lotus to rose upon the scented breeze And I through the centuries walk slowly by The Service Tree while around me devotees Press their heads and hands to the cool-white marble stone, Disciples aged and infirm, youthful, mature,

The Hidden Force October 1999 There is a power at work, a plenitude Of grace in every atom's nucleus, A regenerating stream of divinity Alive in the cells of every human life, Its work a transformation of the gross And unregenerate substance of our selves Imploding falsehood, informing the seeking mind, Fuelling the heart's aspiration, the single prayer Of soul for light, for Godhead to illume Our stumbling pace, our error and our pain,