On paths of unknown mystery, from finite to infinite steps, an inexpressible longing plays with tiny particles outside and within, eternal games in countless forms, with joy.
What is truth in this world, I know its name as sorrow, in the maya-shrouded mindscape, in consciousness the eternal play moves through all the heart...
Why then do I circle like a madman in life-filled desire? When will this mind dissolve in Brahman!— when will words fall silent in divine rapture?
In the soul's gradual unfolding, through fresh experiences, individual being rises in the wheel of birth and return.
I have scattered seeds of life's longing age after age... in hope's pulsing, with varied harvest at whose feet shall I bow today?
In self-consciousness's supreme knowledge the infinite sways moment to moment, beyond the senses at last in eternity's hidden purpose— like a distant flute that rises in the heart's reflection. Unseen light circles, falls as thousand rays, why do they make me forget myself?