About Savitri | B1C4-04 The Surface Vision of Man (pp.49-50)
But all is screened, subliminal, mystical; … It needs the power of a spiritual gaze. Else to our waking mind’s small moment look A goalless voyage seems our dubious course Some Chance has settled or hazarded some Will, Or a Necessity without aim or cause Unwillingly compelled to emerge and be. In this dense field where nothing is plain or sure, Our very being seems to us questionable, Our life a vague experiment, the soul A flickering light in a strange ignorant world, The earth a brute mechanic accident, A net of death in which by chance we live. All we have learned appears a doubtful guess, The achievement done a passage or a phase Whose further end is hidden from our sight, A chance happening or a fortuitous fate. Out of the unknown we move to the unknown.
This is just the existence of those who live at the surface. All seems unreal, useless, boresome. The only way to get out of this incertitude is to find the Divine and to live for the Divine. All the rest is a mechanically …. Perhaps now, after much trouble and much misery, after much hope and much failure, the world will at last turn towards the Light and the Truth. And this powerful … in a way that will enable us to find it and to live in it.
Ever surround our brief existence here Grey shadows of unanswered questionings; The dark Inconscient’s signless mysteries Stand up unsolved behind Fate’s starting line; An aspiration in the Night’s profound, Seed of a perishing body and half-lit mind, Uplifts its lonely tongue of conscious fire Towards an undying Light for ever lost. Only it hears, sole echo of its call, The dim reply in man’s unknowing heart And meets, not understanding why it came Or for what reason is the suffering here, God’s sanction to the paradox of life And the riddle of the Immortal’s birth in Time.
About Savitri | B1C4-04 The Surface Vision of Man (pp.49-50)
But all is screened, subliminal, mystical;
…
It needs the power of a spiritual gaze.
Else to our waking mind’s small moment look
A goalless voyage seems our dubious course
Some Chance has settled or hazarded some Will,
Or a Necessity without aim or cause
Unwillingly compelled to emerge and be.
In this dense field where nothing is plain or sure,
Our very being seems to us questionable,
Our life a vague experiment, the soul
A flickering light in a strange ignorant world,
The earth a brute mechanic accident,
A net of death in which by chance we live.
All we have learned appears a doubtful guess,
The achievement done a passage or a phase
Whose further end is hidden from our sight,
A chance happening or a fortuitous fate.
Out of the unknown we move to the unknown.
This is just the existence of those who live at the surface. All seems unreal, useless, boresome. The only way to get out of this incertitude is to find the Divine and to live for the Divine. All the rest is a mechanically ….
Perhaps now, after much trouble and much misery, after much hope and much failure, the world will at last turn towards the Light and the Truth. And this powerful … in a way that will enable us to find it and to live in it.
Ever surround our brief existence here
Grey shadows of unanswered questionings;
The dark Inconscient’s signless mysteries
Stand up unsolved behind Fate’s starting line;
An aspiration in the Night’s profound,
Seed of a perishing body and half-lit mind,
Uplifts its lonely tongue of conscious fire
Towards an undying Light for ever lost.
Only it hears, sole echo of its call,
The dim reply in man’s unknowing heart
And meets, not understanding why it came
Or for what reason is the suffering here,
God’s sanction to the paradox of life
And the riddle of the Immortal’s birth in Time.