AUM — Vol. 4, No.12, 27 July 1969

O, love me more and love me long


O, love me more and love me long.

My boat is sinking; my hope is strong.

O, love me more and love me long.

My breath is bleeding; my dream is strong.

O, love me more and love me long.

My soul is leaving; my surrender strong.

O, love me more and love me long.

My Goal is crying; my promise strong. ```

I fear


I fear to speak, I fear to speak.

My tongue is killed, my heart is weak.

I fear to think, I fear to think.

My mind is wild, and apt to sink.

I fear to see, I fear to see.

I eat the fruits of Ignorance-tree.

I fear to love, I fear to love.

A train of doubts around, above.

I fear to be, I fear to be.

Long dead my life of faith in me. ```

Leave me alone


Leave me alone, leave me alone.

I need my rest in my soaring nest.

My bleeding heart for God’s bending ears.

His Heart my Host, His Soul my Guest.

Leave me alone, my play is done.

O world, no more shall I stab your pride.

Your lessons wild are harrows of death

I shall unlearn — in God to hide.

Leave me alone, leave me alone.

I have now seen my goal’s highest Soul.

In the glow and flow of Silence-sea

My life of cries has found its role. ```

Another day


Another day, another day.

My Lord Supreme is far away.

Another day, my heart can be

The all-giving breath of patience-tree.

Another day, my life can feed

My soulful world with its crying need.

Another day, I own to hear

God’s Voice of Light and feel Him near.

Another day, another day.

My tears shall win His blue-gold Ray.

Another day, another day.

And then, no more my ignorance-clay.

Another day, I’ll be God’s love

Within, without, below, above. ```

A hundred years from now


A hundred years from now

My highest Goal shall bow

To me, to me, to me.

A hundred years from now

My Silence-breath shall cow

Dark earth’s Ignorance-sea.

A hundred years from now

My single Eye shall plough

The soil of Eternity.

A hundred years from now

I shall, I shall endow

My Lord with my Spirit’s Key.


My name — my age — my home


At last I know my name.

My name is God’s eternal Game.

At last I know my name.

At last I know my age.

My age is Infinity’s page.

At last I know my age.

At last I know my home.

My home is where my flame-worlds roam.

At last I know my home.


A child's God

One day it occurs to Gulu to find God. He thinks: as God is worshipped by men with flowers, He must be hiding in the rose in the garden. Gulu reflects: "Once I am able to discover God, then I will so befriend Him that He will not be able to desert me any more."

Gulu spends the day in the garden. He shakes the plants in his search for God. But he meets Him nowhere. At last he returns home disappointed.

One day Gulu asks his mother, "I search for God so much still; why do I not find Him, mother?"

"Gulu, God is fond of playing. So He plays hide and seek with us. He is an expert Player. He hides Himself in such a way that even the great saints and sages fail to find Him."

"Who then can discover Him, mother?"

"Nobody can find Him unless He reveals Himself. Still He stays with each and every one and protects all as He did Prahlad. He hides Himself in your heart too."

"In the core of my heart! Believe me, mother, when I search for Him in the garden it seems someone responds from within my heart."

"It is this Indweller that is God. Adore Him, learn to love Him as you love me. He is there not only in your heart but in all hearts. Learn to love all, then He will be pleased to reveal Himself to you, be sure."

Gulu’s mind is set at rest by the words of his mother. He cherishes the hope that some day or other God will come to him.

Gulu visits his maternal uncle’s house along with his mother. And he returns home on the eve of the Pujas. The train is packed with passengers. There is not sufficient room. Gulu is not concerned about that. He peeps out of the window to muse over the scenery. His uncle says, "Don‘t bend forward like that, you may fall down, Gulu."

"How can I fall? I have caught hold of the door."

Suddenly somehow the door opens out. Unable to check himself Gulu falls down below. People inside the compartment raise cries of horror and lamentation. Gulu’s mother is about to jump from the train under the spell of despair. Someone holds her back.

It is night-time. Nothing is visible in the dark. The train is running at top speed. Owing to the excitement no one thinks of pulling the chain. Alerted by the confused noise, passengers of the next compartment pull the chain. Forthwith the motion of the train is arrested.

The train goes backward. Nobody hopes to see Gulu alive. After covering some distance someone becomes visible on a bridge. Gulu’s mother cries out, "Behold, my Gulu is there."

The train stops. Gulu’s mother rushes up to him and takes him in her arms. She asks, "Did you get hurt, Gulu?"

"How can I be hurt, mother? The moment I fell down, my uncle jumped and took me in his arms."

With a surprised voice the mother says, "Your uncle did not come down. He was there inside."

"Do not tell a lie, mother. All this time my uncle held me on his lap. As you all drew near he put me down and went that way. You may look for him."

A thrill passes through the whole body of Gulu’s mother. She says, "Gulu, your God saved you in the form of your uncle." At the words of his mother Gulu is beside himself with wonder.

Union —- (A fable)1

An incalculable number of years ago there was a time when man was extremely addle-brained. He treated his consort, the most intimate companion upon earth, as a bond-woman. She was kept, as it were, in iron fetters. She was granted the freedom of moving about inside the house performing all household duties. But she was denied the right of going out of doors.

She accepted her lot without a murmur. No, none was there to read her mind. She would take every care of his room as of the whole household. She would tidy up all her husband’s things and keep them trim and clean for his use and even the floor she would scrub with her own hands. When the day was done and the Sun dosed into a sweet sleep on the Western brim of the world she would light a lamp fed with clarified butter and, placing it under the Tulsi plant in the courtyard, offer prayers to ward off all unforeseen evils. She would arrange flowers for his daily worship and timely serve food and drink to all concerned. The man was certain that she did all these simply because she had no existence without him.

God could not help smiling at the secret thoughts of the man. He wanted to play a trick on the man. However, God’s fun-making was of the merry type. One day He removed the man’s better-half from his house. On entering the house the man found no food to eat, no water to drink, no flowers to offer to God.

In no time he flew into a rage. He shouted himself hoarse. He was, as it were, preparing himself to wage a war against somebody. Suddenly God donned the earthly cloak and came into his presence. With utmost innocence He said to the man: "What has come over you? What is all this commotion?"

"How do you mean?" He was more than angry. "Where is she gone? — one who has been marked for me? Now there is none to serve me with food and drink. Who will collect flowers for me for my daily worship? She used to do all these."

"So it was only to have all these that you needed her?"

"Then for what else?"

"Can I seize upon your word?"

"I give you my word of honour. There, there alone her importance ends."

"I promise, every day you will get food, drink and flowers, all on time."

By the Omnipotence of God all the necessities of the man were supplied to him. No, there was not even the slightest flaw in God’s management. The man was timely supplied with everything as before. But only his consort’s presence was denied to him.

All went well — timely food for the appeasement of his hunger, water for the quenching of his thirst, flowers for his daily worship — all were there. But there was something lacking in his life. The tune that would fill the gap between his food and drink and bring in a wave of satisfaction between his drink and worship was sadly missing. Now his food was simply food, his water was mere water, his flowers were mere flowers. Life appeared to him as cruelty personified. Everything went on mechanically like the hands of a clock.

One day the man returned home dead tired. He found everything in perfect order — his food, his drink, his flowers, in a word, whatever he actually might have wanted. Yet his anger knew no bounds. He cried out, "Who wants all these? Who can put up with your cruel mockery? Who can abide by your mechanical dealings?" Then with a tremendous kick he sent all the utensils and the flowers flying pell-mell.

God appeared. "What is wrong with you again?"

In lieu of a meet reply the man blurted out: "You are clever enough to guess the reason. How long will you keep up this farce? Who wants all these services from you? Take them all back. Who wants your insipid gifts? Give her back who was absolutely my own. My heart is in hot haste to see her. I have had no heart for anything else. I cannot lure my heart away from her."

A subtle smile played upon the eyes of God. He made the man feel for himself that his wild anger was the malady of his own heart. So now God returned his wife.

The sight of her sent him mad with joy. He was overwhelmed with a tremendous emotion. In the twinkling of an eye he released her from her fetters. He decked her wrists with two gold bracelets and placed round her neck a pendant of snow-white pearls. His heart was ravished with love. He hugged her impetuously. "It does not behoove me to treat you as a bondwoman anymore. You are my peer in every respect. You are perfection‘s model. You are the Purna (the deity of Fulfilment). By your magic touch the empty hearts become filled with the richness of delight. You eclipse Lakshmi‘s matchless pride of beauty. It is you who complete the incomplete."

That was the day when the gods were awakened by the redolent smell of the flowers offered by man.

AUM 482. by Suresh Chandra Chakravarty. Translated by Sri Chinmoy from the original Bengali



Man is Infinity’s Heart.

Man is Eternity’s Breath.

Man is Immortality s Life.


From:Sri Chinmoy,AUM — Vol. 4, No.12, 27 July 1969, AUM Centre Press, 1969
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