The Mother Of Dreams

the mother of dreams sri aurobindo image shortstoriescoinGoddess supreme, Mother of Dream,
by thy ivory doors when thou standest,
Who are they then that come down
unto men in thy visions that troop,
group upon group,
down the path of the shadows slanting?

Dream after dream,
they flash and they gleam with
the flame of the stars still around them;

Shadows at thy side in a darkness
ride where the wild fires dance,
stars glow and glance and
the random meteor glistens;

There are voices that cry to
their kin who reply;
voices sweet, at the heart
they beat and ravish the soul
as it listens.

What then are these lands
and these golden sands
and these seas more radiant
than earth can imagine?

Who are those that pace
by the purple waves that
race to the cliff-bound floor
of thy jasper shore under skies
in which mystery muses,

Lapped in moonlight not
of our night or plunged
in sunshine that is not diurnal?

Who are they coming thy Oceans
roaming with sails whose
strands are not made by hands,
an unearthly wind advances?

Why do they join in a
mystic line with those on
the sands linking hands in
strange and stately dances?

Thou in the air,
with a flame in thy hair,
the whirl of thy
wonders watching,

Holdest the night in
thy ancient right,
Mother divine, hyacinthine,
with a girdle of beauty defended.

Sworded with fire, attracting desire,
thy tenebrous kingdom thou keepest,
Starry-sweet, with the moon at thy feet,

now hidden now seen the clouds
between in the gloom and
the drift of thy tresses.

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Only to those whom thy fancy chose,
O thou heart-free,
is it given to see thy witchcraft
and feel thy caresses.

Open the gate where thy
children wait in their world
of a beauty undarkened.

High-throned on a cloud,
victorious, proud I have
espied Maghavan ride when
the armies of wind are behind him;

Food has been given for
my tasting from heaven and
fruit of immortal sweetness;

I have drunk wine of
the kingdoms divine and have
healed the change of music
strange from a lyre which
our hands cannot master,
Doors have swung wide in
the chambers of pride where
the Gods reside and
the Apsaras dance in their
circles faster and faster.

For thou art she whom
we first can see when
we pass the bounds of the mortal;

There at the gates of
the heavenly states thou hast
planted thy wand enchanted
over the head of the Yogin waving.

From thee are the dream and
the shadows that seem and
the fugitive lights that delude us;

Thine is the shade in which
visions are made;
sped by thy hands from celestial lands
come the souls that rejoice for ever.

Into thy dream-worlds we pass
or look in thy magic glass,
then beyond thee we climb
out of Space and Time to
the peak of divine endeavour.

(in Alipur jail)


The Mother Of Dreams by Sri Aurobindo

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