Gitanjali

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life. From the depths of my being, a song rises, an offering to the Divine, a melody woven from the threads of devotion and yearning. My heart, a little flute of reed, is carried over hills and dales, and through it, melodies eternally new are breathed, echoing the boundless joy that overtakes me at the immortal touch of thy hands. My small hands reach out, yet thy infinite gifts pour forth, age after age, and still, there is room to fill.

My days are a pilgrimage, a ceaseless quest for the Beloved. I wander through fields where the golden light dances upon the leaves, and I hear thy presence in the rustle of the wind, in the laughter of children, and in the profound silence of the night sky. Every aspect of nature becomes a reflection of thy glory, a mirror revealing thy omnipresence. I see thee in the vastness of the sky, the ceaseless flow of rivers, and the quiet blossoming of the lotus. My soul recognizes the interconnectedness of all things, knowing that thy spirit permeates every corner of existence.

Often, I find myself in a silent conversation with thee, my Master. When thou commandest me to sing, my heart swells with a pride so profound that tears well in my eyes. All that is harsh and dissonant within me melts into a sweet harmony, and my adoration takes flight like a glad bird soaring across the sea. I know thou takest pleasure in my singing, and it is as a singer that I come before thy presence, touching the edge of thy feet with the far-spreading wing of my song. Drunk with the joy of this melody, I forget myself and dare to call thee friend, though thou art my Lord.

Yet, there are times of struggle, when the clamor of worldly desires seeks to drown out the sacred song. My mind yearns for peace, for truth, for a complete surrender of ego and attachment. I strive to keep my body pure, knowing thy living touch is upon all my limbs; I endeavor to keep untruths from my thoughts, recognizing thee as the truth that kindles reason within me. I shall ever try to drive all evils away, to keep my love in flower, for I know thy seat is in the inmost shrine of my heart. And it shall be my constant endeavor to reveal thee in my actions, for it is thy power that gives me strength to act.

I have learned that thou art not to be found in temples or rituals, not in the solitary confines of meditation, nor in the offering of flowers and incense. Thou art with the tiller of the soil, with the path-maker, with those who toil in the sun and rain. If I truly seek thee, I must leave my quiet corner and stand by them, my garments stained with dust, for that is where thy presence truly resides.

As the journey nears its end, a different kind of longing emerges - a yearning for the ultimate union. Like a rain cloud of July, hung low with its burden of unshed tears, I bend down at thy door, offering all my songs, gathering their diverse strains into a single current to flow into a sea of silence. Like a flock of homeward-bound cranes, flying night and day to their mountain nests, my life takes its final voyage to its eternal home. Death, then, is not an ending to be feared, but a welcome embrace, the ultimate liberation, where the individual soul merges completely with the universal spirit, finding everlasting peace.