Book Seven: The Book of Yoga
Canto Five: The Finding of the Soul
Onward she passed seeking the soul’s mystic cave. At first she stepped into a night of God. The light was quenched that helps the labouring world, The power that struggles and stumbles in our life; This inefficient mind gave up its thoughts, The striving heart its unavailing hopes. All knowledge failed and the Idea’s forms And Wisdom screened in awe her lowly head Feeling a Truth too great for thought or speech, Formless, ineffable, for ever the same. An innocent and holy Ignorance Adored like one who worships formless God The unseen Light she could not claim nor own. In a simple purity of emptiness Her mind knelt down before the unknowable. All was abolished save her naked self And the prostrate yearning of her surrendered heart: There was no strength in her, no pride of force; The lofty burning of desire had sunk Ashamed, a vanity of separate self, The hope of spiritual greatness fled, Salvation she asked not nor a heavenly crown: Humility seemed now too proud a state. Her self was nothing, God alone was all, Yet God she knew not but only knew he was. A sacred darkness brooded now within, The world was a deep darkness great and nude. This void held more than all the teeming worlds, This blank felt more than all that Time has borne, This dark knew dumbly, immensely the Unknown. But all was formless, voiceless, infinite. |
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As might a shadow walk in a shadowy scene, |
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Carved in the massive stone of Matter’s trance. |
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Yet all the worlds and God himself were there, |
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And crossing a wall of doorless living fire There suddenly she met her secret soul. A being stood immortal in transience, |
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Identified with the mind and body and life, It takes on itself their anguish and defeat, Bleeds with Fate’s whips and hangs upon the cross, Yet is the unwounded and immortal self Supporting the actor in the human scene. Through this she sends us her glory and her powers, Pushes to wisdom’s heights, through misery’s gulfs; She gives us strength to do our daily task And sympathy that partakes of others’ grief And the little strength we have to help our race, We who must fill the role of the universe Acting itself out in a slight human shape And on our shoulders carry the struggling world. This is in us the godhead small and marred; In this human portion of divinity She seats the greatness of the Soul in Time To uplift from light to light, from power to power, Till on a heavenly peak it stands, a king. In body weak, in its heart an invincible might, It climbs stumbling, held up by an unseen hand, A toiling spirit in a mortal shape. Here in this chamber of flame and light they met; They looked upon each other, knew themselves, The secret deity and its human part, The calm immortal and the struggling soul. Then with a magic transformation’s speed They rushed into each other and grew one. Once more she was human upon earthly soil |
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There was no wall severing the soul and mind, |
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A silent flame-eyed mass of living force. |
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In the navel lotus’ broad imperial range |
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Our words become the natural speech of Truth, Each thought is a ripple on a sea of Light. Then sin and virtue leave the cosmic lists; They struggle no more in our delivered hearts: Our acts chime with God’s simple natural good Or serve the rule of a supernal Right. All moods unlovely, evil and untrue Forsake their stations in fierce disarray And hide their shame in the subconscient’s dusk. Then lifts the mind a cry of victory: “O soul, my soul, we have created Heaven, Within we have found the kingdom here of God, His fortress built in a loud ignorant world. Our life is entrenched between two rivers of Light, We have turned space into a gulf of peace And made the body a Capitol of bliss. What more, what more, if more must still be done?” In the slow process of the evolving spirit, In the brief stade between a death and birth A first perfection’s stage is reached at last; Out of the wood and stone of our nature’s stuff A temple is shaped where the high gods could live. Even if the struggling world is left outside One man’s perfection still can save the world. There is won a new proximity to the skies, A first betrothal of the Earth to Heaven, A deep concordat between Truth and Life: A camp of God is pitched in human time. End of Canto Five |
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