88. MasterO Lord of Nature, sovereign Sun of all!
Who, if not Thou, will speak of Thee?
Thy smile of Grace through Eternity
Frees all aspiring souls from night's dumb call.
Thou art the ring
Of the lowest chasm and spanless height.
In Thee they feel their haven bright;
In Thee all beings move and wave and wing.
To see Thy all-transcending mystic Form
No vision have we of golden gaze;
Thou are the noon of all our days,
The veerless Pilot in our death's stark storm.
Sri Chinmoy, My Flute, Agni Press, 1972