The Birth of the Infinite1

The golden dawn of the cosmos rapt in trance,
Awaits the Birth of the All.
The seven worlds' bliss converges in her heart
With august and sun-vast call.

Slowly the Peak unmeasured of rapture-fire
Climbs down to our human cry.
His diamond Vision's deathless Will leans low,
Our mortal yearnings nigh.

Suddenly life's giant somnolence is stirred.
His all-embracing Wing
Declares, “I come to end your eyeless fear.
To Me alone now cling!

“No fleeting dreams your teeming births do trace:
Now own My infinite Bloom.
In Me the flood of Immortality!
Nowhere shall be your doom.”

— Chinmoy (1956)

MDM 2. (5 a.m., August 15th, 1872)