Overhead Poetry

Deeps

Silent I roam by the tumultuous sea

That, unreminded of man's mortal noise,

My heart may feel the imperishable voice

Waken a solitary god in me.

Travails of time are sunk: the pure deeps grow,

By their miraculous infinite of sound,

Measure of some tranquillity profound

That never human grief can overthrow.

Sri Aurobindo's Comment

"It is quite up to the mark—very fine. Higher Mind, I think, with lines 6 and 7 raised up to what might be called (if we must find a name for these combinations) Higher Mind Intuition. There are various combinations possible, as in the process of sublimation each higher plane infuses itself into those below and then takes them up into itself."

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