Latest / Sri Aurobindo Studies / Savitri: a Legend and a Symbol, by Sri Aurobindo, Book VI The Book of Fate, Canto 2 The Way of Fate and the Problem of Pain, pp. 451-454

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Savitri: a Legend and a Symbol, by Sri Aurobindo, Book VI The Book of Fate, Canto 2 The Way of Fate and the Problem of Pain, pp. 451-454 · Sri Aurobindo Studies

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  Till then must life carry its seed of death and sorrows.
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  Plaint be heard in the slow night.
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  O mortal, bear this great world's law of pain.
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  In thy hard passage through a suffering world, lean for thy
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  sole support. On Heaven's strength turn
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  towards high truth. Aspire to love and peace.
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  A little bliss is lengthy from above, a touch divine upon thy
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  human days. Make of thy daily way a
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  pilgrimage, for through small joys and griefs thou moveest
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  towards God. Haste not towards Godhead on a
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  dangerous Rd. Open not thy doorways to a
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  nameless power. Climb not to Godhead by the
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  Titan's road against the law He pits his single will across its
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  way. He throws his pride of might
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  heavenward. He clamours on a stair of
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  storms, aspiring to live near the deathless sun.
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  He strives with a giant strength to rest by force from life and
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  nature, the immortals right. He takes by storm the world and
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  fate and heaven. He comes not to the high world
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  Maker's seat, he waits not for the outstretched hand of God to
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  raise him out of his mortality. All he would make his own leave
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  nothing free, stretching his small self to cope with the
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  infinite obstructing the gods open ways.
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  He makes his own estate of the earth's air and light.
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  A monopolist of the world energy.
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  He dominates the life of common men.
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  His pain and others pain, he makes his means on death and
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  suffering. He builds his throne in the
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  hurry and clangor of his acts of might, in a riot and excess, of
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  fame and shame, by his magnitudes of hate and violence,
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  by the quaking of the world beneath his tread.
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  He matches himself against the Eternals calm and feels in
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  himself the greatness of a God. Power is his image of celestial
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  self. The Titan's heart is a sea of
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  fire and force. He exalts in the death of things
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  and ruin and fall. He feeds his strength with his
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  own and other's pain. In the world's pathos and
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  passion he takes delight. His pride, his might call for
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  the struggle and pang. He glories in the sufferings of
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  the flesh and covers the stigmata with the Stoic's name.
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  His eyes, blinded and visionless, stare at the sun.
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  The Seeker's sight, receding from his heart, can find no more
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  the light of eternity. He sees the beyond as an
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  emptiness void of soul, and takes his night for a dark
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  infinite. His nature magnifies the
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  unreal's blank and sees in naughty the sole reality.
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  He would stamp his single figure on the world, obsess the world's
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  rumors with his single name. His moments center the vast
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  universe. He sees his little self as very
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  God. His little eye has swallowed the
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  whole world. His ego has stretched into
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  Infinity. His mind, a beat in original
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  nothingness, ciphers his thought on a slate of hourless time.
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  He builds on a mighty vacancy of soul, a huge philosophy of
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  nothingness. In him Nirvana lives and speaks
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  and acts impossibly, creating a universe, an eternal. 0 is his
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  formless self, his spirit, the void, impersonal, absolute.
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  Take not that stride, O growing soul of man.
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  Cast not thyself into that night of God, the soul.
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  Suffering is not eternity's key, or ransom by sorrow Heavens
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  demand on life, O mortal bear, but ask not for the stroke.
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  Too soon will grief and anguish find thee out.
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  Too enormous is that venture for thy will.
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  Only in limits can man's strength be safe.
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  Yet is Infinity thy Spirit's goal?
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  Its bliss is there behind the world's face of tears.
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  A power is in thee that thou knowest not.
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  Thou art a vessel of the imprisoned spark.
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  It seeks relief from time's envelopment.
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  And while thou shutst it in the seal is pain bliss?
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  Is the Godhead's crown eternal free, unburdened by life's blind
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  mystery of pain? Pain is the signature of the
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  ignorance attesting the secret God denied by life until life
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  finds him. Pain can never end.
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  Calm is self's victory overcoming fate.
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  Bear thou shalt find at last I rode to bliss.
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  Bliss is the secret stuff of all that lives.
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  Even pain and grief are garbs of world delight.
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  It hides behind thy sorrow and thy cry, because thy strength is
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  a part and not God's whole. Because, afflicted by the little
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  self, thy consciousness forgets to be divine as it walks in the
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  vague penumbra of the flesh, and cannot bear the world's
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  tremendous touch. Thou cryest out and sayest that
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  there is pain, indifference, pain and joy.
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  A triple disguise attire of the rapturous dancer in the waves.
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  Withhold from thee the body of God's bliss.
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  Thy Spirit's strength shall make thee one with God.
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  Thy agony shall change to ecstasy.
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  Indifference deepened into infinity's calm and joy.
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  Laugh nude on the peaks of the Absolute.