The Mother3

Mother of rapture, Thee we seize!
Our eyes of tears now smile in Thee.
To quench our thirst thy ruby Love,
Thy Power we clasp from thy silence-sea.

So near art Thou, O Mother Dawn!
In bliss to answer our moon-white call.
A world of hush sublime, thy Dream.
In Thee alone the golden All.

Before Thee quivers the battle of Night.
Thy Grace supreme is Nature's Soul.
In us Thou hast sown the immortal seeds;
Thy joy shall flood our triumph's goal.

From the author's "Flame-Waves" (1955)

Sri Chinmoy, AUM — Vol. 2, No. 1, 27 August 1966, Boro Park Printers -- Brooklyn, N. Y, 1966