It is due to these inherent contradictions in human life that we miss life’s goal.
Too heavy charge
Even when a glory of wisdom crowns his brow,
When mind and spirit shed a grandiose ray
To exalt this product of the sperm and gene,
This alchemist’s miracle from plasm and gas,
And he who shared the animal’s run and crawl
Lifts his thought-stature to the Immortal’s heights,
His life still keeps the human middle way;
His body he resigns to death and pain,
Abandoning Matter, his too heavy charge.
Some glory of wisdom stirs his brain and his mind and spirit receive and radiate a greater light to exalt his material existence. Then he who has emerged like a miracle from plasm and gas, he who shared the animal crawl lifts his thoughts upwards to Immortal’s heights. Yet his life keeps the middle way of half human half animal. He prefers the accustomed comfort zones of human limits rather than strive for the greater adventures of the Spirit that calls him. His body he resigns to death and pain finding it too difficult to deal with.
A thaumaturge sceptic of miracles,
A spirit left sterile of its occult power
By an unbelieving brain and credulous heart,
He leaves the world to end where it began:
His work unfinished he claims a heavenly prize.
A magician himself and yet sceptic of miracles he is a spirit left bereft of its own occult power because his brain believes it not whereas his heart is too credulous. He leaves the world to end where it began and wants to return to some heavenly seat without finishing his real task of divinising body and life.
Thus has he missed
Thus has he missed creation’s absolute.
Thus has he missed the absolute truth of creation.
Half-way he stops his star of destiny:
A vast and vain long-tried experiment,
An ill-served high conception doubtfully done,
The world’s life falters on not seeing its goal,—
A zigzag towards unknown dangerous ground
Ever repeating its habitual walk,
Ever retreating after marches long
And hardiest victories without sure result,
Drawn endlessly an inconclusive game.
Stopping half way, his life seems like a vast and vain and long experiment of nature that seems to serve no real purpose. His high conceptions do not help his life which falters unable to see its goal. His life moves in a zigzag manner on unknown grounds ever repeating its habitual walk, retreating after long marches, winning uncertain temporary victories while playing an inconclusive game. This is the logical conclusion that the mind would draw if it does not see higher and greater possibilities awaiting us and man himself being a transitional being to greater divine manifestations yet to emerge.
In an ill-fitting and voluminous robe
A radiant purpose still conceals its face,
A mighty blindness stumbles hoping on,
Feeding its strength on gifts of luminous Chance.
Wearing an ill-fitting robe, too large for his inner stature, yet a radiant purpose conceals his face. His blindness is suddenly lit up with some ray of intuition that feeds his life as if with a luminous chance.
This is the paradox of human life even as slowly he evolves through hard and difficult inner conditions and outer circumstances.