My longings

My longings make me poor and weak,

They hear not my secret Will.

Ever they hate my quest supreme,

Away they take my thrill.


A day shall come, I know it well,

When all desires of mine

Will seek Thy Grace and Thee alone.

I then in Thee shall shine.


I will be above the fruits of deeds.

Thy blue Compassion-Eye

Will guide my heart and soul, my all.

In Thee my past shall die.


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