What a fine gesture, Ronjon! and thanks. The date of composition of the poem is 2 June 1960 and Amal Kiran liked it much. He gave it a tick mark, signifying that the piece is successful in both poetic expression and substance.

Apropos of the Descent, I am posting here in the following the most wonderful passage we have on the theme in Savitri. Savitri has found her soul and now there is a powerful rush of the transcendental divine Shakti in her whole being. Centre after centre open to her strong and luminous surging flow, Savitri holding in herself the force that marks the first perfection’s stage, a perfection that can save the world. (Savitri, pp. 528-30)

In its deep lotus home her being sat
As if on concentration’s marble seat,
Calling the mighty Mother of the worlds
To make this earthly tenement her house.

As in a flash from a supernal light,
A living image of the original Power,
A face, a form came down into her heart
And made of it its temple and pure abode.

But when its feet had touched the quivering bloom,
A mighty movement rocked the inner space
As if a world were shaken and found its soul:
Out of the Inconscient’s soulless mindless Night
A flaming serpent rose released from sleep.

It rose billowing its coils and stood erect
And climbing mightily stormily on its way
It touched her centres with its flaming mouth:
As if a fiery kiss had broken their sleep,
They bloomed and laughed surcharged with light and bliss;
Then at the crown it joined the Eternal’s space…

All underwent a high celestial change:
Breaking the black Inconscient’s blind mute wall,
Effacing the circles of the Ignorance,
Powers and divinities burst flaming forth;
Each part of the being trembling with delight
Lay overwhelmed with tides of happiness
And saw her hand in every circumstance
And felt her touch in every limb and cell:
In the country of the lotus of the head
Which thinking mind has made its busy space,
In the castle of the lotus twixt the brows
Whence it shoots the arrows of its sight and will,
In the passage of the lotus of the throat
Where speech must rise and the expressing mind
And the heart’s impulse run towards word and fact,
A glad uplift and a new working came.

The immortal’s thoughts displaced our bounded view,
The immortal's thoughts earth’s drab idea and sense;
All things now bore a deeper heavenlier sense.

A glad clear harmony marked their truth's outline,
Re-set the balance and measures of the world…

A channel of the mighty Mother’s choice,
The immortal's will took into its calm control
Our blind or erring government of life;
A loose republic once of wants and needs,
Then bowed to the uncertain sovereign mind,
Life now obeyed to a diviner rule
And every act became an act of God.

In the kingdom of the lotus of the heart
Love chanting its pure hymeneal hymn
Made life and body mirrors of sacred joy
And all the emotions gave themselves to God.

In the navel lotus’s broad imperial range
Its proud ambitions and its master lusts
Were tamed into instruments of a great calm sway
To do a work of God on earthly soil.

In the narrow nether centre’s petty parts
Its childish game of daily dwarf desires
Was changed into a sweet and boisterous play,
A romp of little gods with life in Time.

In the deep place where once the Serpent slept,
There came a grip on Matter's giant powers
For large utilities in life's little space;
A firm ground was made for Heaven's descending might.

Behind all reigned her sovereign deathless soul…

Yogis are not unaware of the Kundalini Power rising from the base at the Muladhars and climbing to the thousand-petalled lotus at the head, sahasradala, but the invading divine Might, the supreme transcendental Shakti taking charge of every centre of activity is something remarkable in the Yoga of Savitri, something which at the best is indirect in the Adhyatma Yoga of Aswapti. Sri Aurobindo spoke of the difference between the Vedic Path and the Tantric Path, the Spiritual and the Occult Paths, and both of them have to come together in the Conquest of Death and Physical Transformation.

RYD

Coming in the thematic class of the above, here is Amal Kiran’s Seven Suns:

Seven suns are plunging down like diamonds
To deck the body of man with deathlessness.
Bursting the brain to an omnipresent truth
Piercing the brows to a gaze unbound by time,
Thrilling the throat with a word which rhythms the worlds,
Gripping the heart with a oneness that is all,
Wakening the belly to a laugh of infinite space,
Unloosing within the loins a swirl of stars,
Coiling at the base of the spine an almighty calm,
They take their splendorous stations in frail flesh—
And the flesh suddenly knows itself supreme
As though heaven’s roses bore dust-intimate roots!
No gods are they from foreign farnesses
But the dust’s own divinity beyond
Its brief and blind and broken beauty here.
One viewless Marvel plays a twofold game,
The solar shine and the terrestrial shade,
Empyrean and abyss each measuring each:
The seven suns descending to the earth
Are the seven earths awaiting in the sun.

RYD