The Powers that here betray our hearts and err,
Were there sovereign in truth, perfect in joy,
Masters in a creation without flaw,
Possessors of their own infinitude.
There Mind, a splendid sun of vision’s rays,
Shaped substance by the glory of its thoughts
And moved amidst the grandeur of its dreams.
Imagination’s great ensorcelling rod
Summoned the unknown and gave to it a home,
Outspread luxuriantly in golden air
Truth’s iris-coloured wings of fantasy,
Or sang to the intuitive heart of joy
Wonder’s dream-notes that bring the Real close.
[Savitri: Book Three Canto Three]
