A Spiritual Biography of Savitri

15: He saw a world that is from a world to be

 

Against this glory of spiritual states,

Their parallels and yet their opposites

Floated and swayed, eclipsed and shadow-like

As if a doubt made substance, flickering, pale,

This other scheme two vast negations found.

 

A world that knows not its inhabiting Self,

Labours to find its cause and need to be;

A spirit ignorant of the world it made,

Obscured by Matter, travestied by Life,

Struggles to emerge, to be free, to know and reign;

These were close-tied in one disharmony,

Yet the divergent lines met not at all.

 

Three Powers governed its irrational course,

In the beginning an unknowing Force,

In the middle an embodied striving soul,

In its end a silent spirit denying life…

 

But now all seemed a vainly teeming vast

Upheld by a deluded Energy

To a spectator self-absorbed and mute,

Careless of the unmeaning show he watched,

Regarding the bizarre procession pass

Like one who waits for an expected end.

 

He saw a world that is from a world to be.

 

There he divined rather than saw or felt,

Far off upon the rim of consciousness,

Transient and frail this little whirling globe

And on it left like a lost dream's vain mould,

A fragile copy of the spirit's shell,

His body gathered into mystic sleep.

 

A foreign shape it seemed, a mythic shade.

 

Alien now seemed that dim far universe,

Self and eternity alone were true.

 

Then memory climbed to him from the striving planes

Bringing a cry from once-loved cherished things,

And to the cry as to its own lost call

A ray replied from the occult Supreme…

 

Two beings he was, one wide and free above,

One struggling, bound, intense, its portion here…

 

His heart lay somewhere conscious and alone

Far down below him like a lamp in night;

Abandoned it lay, alone, imperishable,

Immobile with excess of passionate will…


In the luminous stillness of its mute appeal

It looked up to the heights it could not see;

It yearned from the longing depths it could not leave.

 

In the centre of his vast and fateful trance

Half way between his free and fallen selves,

Interceding twixt God's day and the mortal's night,

Accepting worship as its single law,

Accepting bliss as the sole cause of things,

Refusing the austere joy which none can share,

Refusing the calm that lives for calm alone,

To her it turned for whom it willed to be.

 

In the passion of its solitary dream

It lay like a closed soundless oratory

Where sleeps a consecrated argent floor

Lit by a single and untrembling ray

And an invisible Presence kneels in prayer…

 

All other parts were dumb in centred sleep

Consenting to the slow deliberate Power

Which tolerates the world's error and its grief,

Consenting to the cosmic long delay,

Timelessly waiting through the patient years

Her coming they had asked for earth and men;

This was the fiery point that called her now…

 

It sent its voiceless prayer to the Unknown;

It listened for the footsteps of its hopes

Returning through the void immensities,

It waited for the fiat of the Word

That comes through the still self from the Supreme.

 

 

Savitri, pp. 329-333