Overhead Poetry

Absolute

Lustre whose vanishing point we call the sun—

Joy whose one drop drowns seas of all desire—

Life rendering time's heart a hollow hush—

Potence of poise unplumbed by infinite space!

Not unto you I strain, O miracled boons,

But that most inward marvel, the sheer Self

Who bears your beauty; and, devoid of you,

His dark unknown would yet fulfil my love.

Sri Aurobindo's Comment

"No, they are not stiff: the expression is successful and the rhythm harmonious. The first three lines are magnificent."

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