My fearI tremble in every limb, with fear I dine.
My soul becomes a rending surge of pain
The moment human eyes are locked with mine.
Pangs shoot through me, but all in vain.
Too fast my giant hopes are thinning out.
My heart, a stranger to God’s ivory Look.
To free myself from my dingy past I cry out.
That’ll be the twelfth of Never; the hell I brook.
Sri Chinmoy, God’s Glance and God’s Grace, Agni Press, 2006