Overhead Poetry

In Terram

Why this indignity that from the brave

Height of soul-lustre into a broken grave

Man's yearning flesh should drop and all his drouth

Of planet-passion kiss the worm's cold mouth?

What treasure yet unknown draws down his mood,

Whose heart is fashioned for infinitude?

Surely some God-abyss calls out to him! ...

We die and all our winged senses dim

Because we have not dreamed the goal of birth,

The arcane eternity coring dull earth.

O omnipresent Light, break from below

As in the constellate seasons of our mind:

Rise up and flower in these cells of woe,

Flush the wan nerves, breathe your immense gold breath,

And make our limbs no longer grope to find

A heaven of quiet through world-weary death!

Sri Aurobindo's Comment

It is very fine. The thought is clear enough. Illumined Mind intuitive inspiration."

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