The Mysterious Mother


The Mysterious Mother

Blessed are the souls consecrated by Thy Grace.
This creation through the eternal time is only Thyself in progression.
Whose soul can claim Thee exclusively as its own
Yet there is nowhere a soul which is not Thy abode.
To contain the ocean in a wine glass,
To squeeze the Himalayas into a matchbox,
To erect a fence around Thy creative Fire,
To make Thy Beauty a captive in a golden prison,
Is a mad impossible game, men love to play.
O Mother Divine, open our eyes, break the bounds of our mind,
Shatter the blind passionate wall around our heart.
May we become conscious of Thy eternal presence,
Even in the void where the stars are absent.
May my soul adore Thee in a million bodies and forms
Constantly moving, changing, disappearing and renovating,
Marvellous procession of Thy numberless faces, gleams of Thy Light,
Fascinating, evanescent images fleeting across my hypnotised vision.
Who art Thou, O Mother of irresistible wonder, eternal, unique?
My soul with a dim candle is scrutinising the faces of sculpted divinities,
In an endless mountain gallery to identify Thee in a hopeless effort,
To shout victory, at last I have found Thee – This is She, This is She,
But to this day, no face has satisfied me, my hunger to meet Her
Burns like a slow delicious fire, yet when I do not seek Her
I feel Her strong arms closing around my soul, Her intolerable sweetness.
The fire burns all the more. I am engulfed by Her blissful Mystery.
She lures me on and I run, wherever I look I meet Her gaze.
The statues in the mountain gallery smile at me with Thy thousand eyes.
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Poem Niranjan Guha Roy
Illustration Christine Alkov
 

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