Today’s talk touches upon the Divine Sacrifice of Sri Aurobindo into the Inconscient Night to clear the passage. Full text of the poems is below.
THE PILGRIM OF THE NIGHT
I made an assignation with the Night;
In the abyss was fixed our rendezvous:
In my breast carrying God’s deathless light
I came her dark and dangerous heart to woo.
I left the glory of the illumined Mind
And the calm rapture of the divinised soul
And travelled through a vastness dim and blind
To the grey shore where her ignorant waters roll.
I walk by the chill wave through the dull slime
And still that weary journeying knows no end;
Lost is the lustrous godhead beyond Time,
There comes no voice of the celestial Friend.
And yet I know my footprints’ track shall be
A pathway towards Immortality.
THE IRON DICTATORS
I looked for Thee alone, but met my glance
The iron dreadful Four who rule our breath,
Masters of falsehood, Kings of ignorance,
High sovereign Lords of suffering and death.
Whence came these formidable autarchies,
From what inconscient blind Infinity,—
Cold propagandists of a million lies,
Dictators of a world of agony?
Or was it Thou who bor’st the fourfold mask?
Enveloping Thy timeless heart in Time,
Thou hast bound the spirit to its cosmic task,
To find Thee veiled in this tremendous mime.
Thou, only Thou, canst raise the invincible siege,
O Light, O deathless Joy, O rapturous Peace!
VOICE OF THE SUMMITS
Voice of the summits, leap from thy peaks of ineffable splendour,
Wisdom’s javelin cast, leonine cry of the Vast.
Voice of the summits, arrow of gold from a bow-string of silence!
Leap down into my heart, blazing and clangorous dart!
Here where I struggle alone unheeded of men and unaided,
Here by the darkness down-trod, here in the midnight of God.
I have come down from the heights and the outskirts of Heaven
Into the gulfs of God’s sleep, into the inconscient Deep.
All I had won that the mind can win of the Word and the wordless,
Knowledge sun-bright for ever and the spiritual crown of endeavour,
Share in the thoughts of the cosmic Self and its orders to Nature,
Cup of its nectar of bliss, dreams on the breast of its peace.
THE END
Is this the end of all that we have been,
And all we did or dreamed,—
A name unremembered and a form undone,—
Is this the end?
A body rotting under a slab of stone
Or turned to ash in fire,
A mind dissolved, lost its forgotten thoughts,—
Is this the end?
Our little hours that were and are no more,
Our passions once so high
Dying mocked by the still earth and calm sunshine,—
Is this the end?
Our yearnings for the human Godward climb
Passing to other hearts
Deceived, while sinks towards death and hell the world,—
Is this the end?
Fallen is the harp; shattered it lies and mute;
Is the unseen player dead?
Because the tree is felled where the bird sang,
Must the song too hush?
One in the mind who planned and willed and thought,
Worked to reshape earth’s fate,
One in the heart who loved and yearned and hoped,
Does he too end?
The Immortal in the mortal is his Name;
An artist Godhead here
Ever remoulds himself in diviner shapes,
Unwilling to cease
Till all is done for which the stars were made,
Till the heart discovers God
And soul knows itself. And even then
There is no end.
