That Which is Divine in Us There is a window on the secret soul, It is not through the eyes, for they deceive, The passage through the heart is most direct Once found one would not ever wish to leave. Our long and chequered history is there, Of many births and deaths and births again, The ascending spiral glows for all to see Who take the sunlit path absolved from pain. And though we are content within our shell And trifling joys are manna to the mind, At times the opening comes, we look within To glimpse a being of a higher kind But then the worldly life pulls us away And only a faint remembrance lingers still.

Men and Angels Joyously Shall Dwell As we labour in that future paradise The muses of subtle spheres sing to me Chants that once in former lives I knew When the world was young and human destiny A dream of God known only to a few. We think perhaps a progress has been won, In the busy traffic of our human lives But nothing is achieved till all is done And God awakened in our mortal dress. The soul secure our destiny he guides To a realization locked within the cells, A sanctum of light where Truth alone abides And beauty's touch beyond eternity. No longer shall be dying and no death Delay the tread divine upo

The Noons of Splendour The twenty-fourth of August and no sun, Clouds veil her face, the skies of pewter made, Expectantly the earth in stillness lies And birds wait silently in the deep shade. A light not wholly real pervades the land It seems the trick of an illusionist Or a secret energy content to work In the dense and palpable morning mist, A settled atmosphere of deep reserve. The Spring of happy days is now behind And Summer's riot captivates the sense. Earth's final flowering is to my mind The preface of regenerative sleep. Autumn's colours lead to Winter's rule And all our Springs are born from that white peace,

The Promised Descent of Heaven Cold is the heart where a fire burns Lit by the fuel of centuries of hate, Now unleashed upon the innocent And all the world uncertain of its fate. We are baffled by the enormity of war Yet some take passing pleasure in the sight Of rubble in our televised accounts, Vicariously some perverse delight. Can the dogs of war unleashed be brought to bay, The malevolent in man replace by good, His ego-need renounce for higher truth, His fighting instincts turn towards brotherhood? Earth shall not fail but man may disappear Or live subservient to a higher will, For the rider on the stallion

Spirit of Beauty I met a spirit of beauty in Auroville Where peacocks cried in pleasure from flower-hung trees, And a memory hold of a silver smile from still Clear depths of soul that blossomed in delight. I met a spirit of tenderness sublime, A heart of strength that held its happy beats Mid the coming and going of the impetuous feet of time And in whose hands the lifeless clay breathed life. From

At the Gate of the Golden Fane I have heard him at the threshold of my door And hesitating answered to His call As one who signs for delivery of goods Inviting not the Messenger in the hall. Through the eyes of strangers ever he smiles on me With a brightness shining in eyes that touch the soul Waking a corresponding view within And a deep persistent yearning towards the goal. In silence now he hears my silent prayer That slowly builds as old desires wane, In the antechambers of the secret heart He softly knocks at the gate of the golden fane.

R.S.V.P. Let me not hold to illusion's dreams Or stand on ego's quaking base The world is other than it seems, Behind the mask I see a face, A form that waits discovery, Herald of a coming race, Our secret Self and god to be. Our correspondence with the night It tolerates through wisdom vast, Cognizant of our human plight, Our evolution's chequered past And pours on all its calm delight. The moment waits for man to make The conscious call with alacrity, Asleep within our being wake The Lord of Life, the Deity Now hid from view within the core, The silent One, the Ecstasy Requests our presence at His door.

On Chopin The Mother spoke most intimately to me Of Chopin's music heard in the inner planes And on the listening ear his melodies Resounded through those secret mystic lanes. Dampened chords supporting a threadlike tone That wandered evanescent in the air Born from an oestrus of sorrow, a vast Alone, Songs of happiness mixed with the heart's despair. Melodies like dreams reluctant to flee Tokens of tender sweetness love and loss, Their images linger on the enraptured soul Then drown in seas of terrifying force. I attended the birth of worlds and galaxies And stars in violent motion and arrest, Sounds as of life created and destroyed

Cellular Transformation All heals and seems as once before, yet new. From the depths of dark experience we rise Above our pain and lassitude and laws Inviolate partake of their demise. New energies uplift and mould new forms, Round the constant Eye of the veiled Divine, From the Mother's living cells, ubiquitous, A contagion of the supramental line. None is spared the impact and assault, From sub-atomic particles to man, In the subtle atmosphere of earth there dawns By slow degrees the supramental plan. Infiltrating with Her consciousness

Song May 20, 2000 I awoke to the song in the woodland Far from the traffic of man, A trilling-note indeed Sung through a timeless span, And all our frightening speed, The bottomless pit of need Are nought to this song that ran Its melody for man, As loved to lover replied A music to ever abide. My soul-song covers the earth Rejoicing in his mirth, Rejoicing in silent trees And ancient wonders as these -