Of what is made Thy heart?


When stars and moon are mute in trance

My bosom pines for Thee.

My love for Thee smashes my pride

Of dumb eternity.

I hear at times Thy golden flute,

But beyond my reach Thou art.

My sacrifice in vain will end.

Of what is made Thy Heart? ```

From:Sri Chinmoy,My first friendship with the muse, Sri Chinmoy Lighthouse, New York, 1973
Sourced from https://srichinmoylibrary.com/ffm