Our fruitless longingsOur fruitless longings never know
What danger great they hug.
They ever are fond of barren things;
In them, alas, our graves are dug.
O acts that lead us all to Night,
Today once feel our power.
No one remains ever in hell;
In all abides God's Hour.
Sri Chinmoy, My first friendship with the muse, Agni Press, 1973