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```

There was a time

When the poet in me

Prayerfully desired to roam and roam

Inside my heart-garden.

The poet in me now sleeplessly cries

To clasp the flower-beauty

Of my heart-garden.

And before long, the poet in me

Will meditatively grow into

The nectar-fragrance-delight

Of my heart-garden.

```

From:Sri Chinmoy,Twenty-Seven Thousand Aspiration-Plants, part 184, Agni Press, 1993
Sourced from https://srichinmoylibrary.com/ap_184