A poem by Sri Aurobindo
I looked for Thee alone, but met my glance The iron dreadful Four who rule our breath, Masters of falsehood, Kings of ignorance, High sovereign Lords of suffering and death.
Whence came these formidable autarchies, From what inconscient blind Infinity,— Cold propagandists of a million lies, Dictators of a world of agony?
Or was it Thou who bor'st the fourfold mask? Enveloping Thy timeless heart in Time, Thou hast bound the spirit to its cosmic task, To find Thee veiled in this tremendous mime.
Thou, only Thou, canst raise the invincible siege, O Light, O deathless Joy, O rapturous Peace!
Part VII : Pondicherry (Circa 1927-1947) > Sonnets from Manuscripts (Circa 1934-1947)
NOTES FROM EDITOR
14 November 1939. Two handwritten manuscripts.
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