O Mother, who shall ever sound the mystery of Your fathomless Love?
If only the blind and the lame and the mutilated and the profane
Knew the omnipotence they harbor in their breast, all would change.

The hungry dog whining in the rain is made from a deathless substance.
The furious bull straddling across the path is the Lord Himself.
The nubile princess luxuriating in the revelry of senses
Crystallises for an opulent instant the potency of Your transcendence.
Death, too, is the soul’s cosy tavern for the night
In its long strenuous walk towards an immortal life.
Seen under a serene light, each face is a sculptured poise of the Formless.
On the bosom of rocks a fiery joy is engraved, compassion animates cruel Fate.
A handful of earth becomes the palpitating heart of the All-Beautiful.
A glass-bead, an orange peel reveal That which has no name.
Transparent eyes recount epic tales of heroic conquests
With God as the only witness.

Unknown to the beings,
The spirit in them yearns and communes with the Reality.
The humblest soul sojourns nightly to its home
Beyond the mystic shores sealed off by a deep sleep.
The muffled ecstasy of life in the porphyry,
The gamut of passion in the mimosa,
Ease of movement and careless exuberance in a fawn, the majesty of a swan,
A rapture and a harmony that elevate man on sudden occasions,
Mark the early trajectory of Your assault on the yet unconquered peaks.
Now soft and sweet and tender, now adamantine, relentless and tyrannical,
You change the technique according to the nature of Your subject.
The sails resistant to the strong winds of Your grace
Take the vessel to its destination through a contrary process.
Baptism of fire purifies the ore, transmutes the sordid into sublime.
Weak with the weakling, subtle with the cunning, comedian with the fool,
Lover with the beloved, Master with the servant, Teacher with the disciple,
Kali to the strong, Krishna to Your comrades, Mother to Your children,
You draw each one to Your breast through roads that seem to deviate.

If a lotus could appear in a corner of this lifeless Universe,
Wonder not, O soul,
Should a new race possess the Earth with the Mother as Leader.
The impossible becomes inevitable
Through the miracle of a boundless Love.


Niranjan Guha Roy