Spirit’s Sacred Thirst

Savitri: Book 3 Canto 1 Section 1 ALL IS too little that the world can give: Its power and knowledge are the gifts of Time And cannot fill the spirit’s sacred thirst. Although of One these forms of greatness are And by its breath of grace our lives abide, Although more near to us than nearness’ self, It is some utter truth of what we are; Hidden by its own works, it seemed far-off, Impenetrable, occult, voiceless, obscure. The Presence was lost by which all things have charm, The Glory lacked of which they are dim signs. The world lived on made empty of its Cause, Like love when the beloved’s face is gone. The labour to know seemed a vain strife of Mind; All knowledge ended in the Unknowable: The effort to rule seemed a vain pride of Will; A trivial achievement scorned by Time, All power retired into the Omnipotent. A cave of darkness guards the eternal Light. A silence settled on his striving heart; Absolved from the voices of the world’s desire, He turned to the Ineffable’s timeless call. A Being intimate and unnameable, A wide compelling ecstasy and peace Felt in himself and all and yet ungrasped, Approached and faded from his soul’s pursuit As if for ever luring him beyond. Near, it retreated; far, it called him still. Nothing could satisfy but its delight: Its absence left the greatest actions dull, Its presence made the smallest seem divine.