Our fruitless longings

Our 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, Sri Chinmoy Lighthouse, New York, 1973