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)