Overhead Poetry

Pleroma

Nor first nor last, but in a timeless gyre

The globes of Beauty burn—a hush made fire:

Their colours self-secluded one by one,

Yet sisters in a joyful union—

Rhythms of quiet, thrill on gemlike thrill

Necklaced around a Throat invisible...

When wearily I string word after word,

I call your flame, O Ecstasies unheard,

To guide my frailty with some touch of you!

Grant me a worship-glow that reaches, through

My dreamful silence ere the musics throng,

Your deathless silence at each close of song.

Sri Aurobindo's Comment

"Very fine. It is a vision of things from the Illumined Mind with the atmosphere of light and colours that reigns there."

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