Long lost

My faults are countless, yet
    With joy I see the faults of all.
I kindle thus my pyre,
    Ever to hear death's constant call.

My soul is far, too far;
    In fruitless thoughts of clay I live.
Long lost my mission vast;
    In eyeless chasm I now must grieve.
Sri Chinmoy, My first friendship with the muse, Sri Chinmoy Lighthouse, New York, 1973