A tortuous streamA tortuous stream our only fate,
A sluggish evolution's flow
We feel from morn to eve of our life.
Who says the One in us shall grow?
Covered we are with Nothingness;
The ignorance breathes deep in our heart.
No hope of dawn in our stupor-breast;
Before our heart-beat gleams death-dart.
We dwell upon the barren surface;
Alas, we never go within.
The Supreme's Bliss remains unknown;
Around us sports a dreadful din.
Sri Chinmoy, My first friendship with the muse, Agni Press, 1973