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At the Feet of The Mother

Lyrical Poems

Aravinda Maheshwari recites 42 Lyrical Poems.
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"In the greatness of a man, in music’s outspread wings, in a touch, in a smile,in a sound, Something that waits, something that wanders and settles not, a Nothing that was all and is found."
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O marvel bird with the burning wings of light and the unbarred lids that look beyond all space, One strange leap of thy mystic stress breaking the barriers of mind and life, arrives at its luminous term thy flight;
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This was the closed mute and burning source Whence were formed the worlds and their star-dance; Life sprang a self-rapt inconscient Force, Love, a blazing seed, from that flame-trance.
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“I, Earth, have a deeper power than Heaven; My lonely sorrow surpasses its rose-joys, A red and bitter seed of the raptures seven; — My dumbness fills with echoes of a far Voice."
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Once again thou hast climbed, O moon, like a white fire on the glimmering edge, Floating up, floating up from the haunted verge of a foam-tremulous sea
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When Light first from the unconscious Immense burst to create nebula and sun ‘Twas the meeting of our hands through the empty Night that enkindled the fateful blaze
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Earth is now girdled with trance and Heaven is put round her for vesture. Wings that are brilliant with fate sleep at Eternity’s gate. Time waits, vacant, the Lightning that kindles, the Word that transfigures; Space is a stillness of God building his earthly abode.
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Although consenting here to a mortal body, He is the Undying; limit and bond he knows not; For him the aeons are a playground, Life and its deeds are his splendid shadow.
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The illumined star-thought sloops leading To the Dawn, their harbour home, to the Light unsealed, To the sun-face Infinite, the Untimed revealed.
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...Crossing power-swept silences rapture-stunned, Climbing high far ethers eternal-sunned, Thought the great-winged wanderer paraclete Disappeared slow-singing a flame-word rune. Self was left, lone, limitless, nude, immune.
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... O golden Mystery, flower, Sun on the head of the Timeless, guest of the marvellous Hour.
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He who would bring the heavens here Must descend himself into clay And the burden of earthly nature bear And tread the dolorous way.
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Into the gulfs of our nature leap, Voice of the spaces, call of the Light! Break the seals of Matter’s sleep, Break the trance of the unseen height.
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Nothing is hid from my burning heart; My mind is shoreless and still; My song is rapture’s mystic art, My flight immortal will. 
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Voice of Infinity, sound in my heart, — Call of the One! Stamp there thy radiance, never to part, O living Sun.