Soliloquies in Yoga — 2

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Soliloquies in Yoga — 2

How very often upon the fragile beings of men are thrust the persistent demands of aspiration. How very often is stretched and sheared our sinews. How pitiless the tortures we endure.

But what do the common men know? Caught as they are in the mindless stupor of monotony, with no perception of an ideal or ambition, they wither like the tired desire of pale hearts.

But to us the dreamers, the unseen architects of the future, the dreamers of impossibilities is given the task which the future dawns are made of. Unto us is the grandiose task given, as if the heart of love alone could divine what the mind of reason coldly absolves from the realm of possibilities.

On us are the revolts of men, ungrateful men to whom only the corpse of dead fact is possibility and not the thought of Seed-Spirit’s living presence.

But we go on, inspite of the jeers of these puny, impotent minds, those better-dead-than-living minds incapable of breaking the mould woven by habit and convention.

And to this task, what shall our wages be? Laurels? The regard of posterity? The gratitude of milling crowd? Nay, ours is the reward of doom, of loss, of defeat & ultimately the cold embrace of clod & earth.

After having given thy life & sanity for a future-dawn thou shalt not share, if thy heart recedes from its motions of aspiration, feel for once those numberless seeds who would be denied the light of thy sacrifice, those souls of felicity bound by the drowse of inconsequence. Having dwelt upon the sorrows that should occur on abandoning thy ways, upon the doom that shall befall these fates persist on thy pathless ways, harvest from the vast fertile ground of thy heart of love luminous paths to some shining becomings.

And for all that thou hast endured and given and lost, remember the reward is just one…to clutch at the feet of that Herd-Boy & ask no more than to hear the music of His flute beyond the last heaven known to men & the Gods.

(Picture Courtesy Priti Ghosh)