Long lost
My faults are countless, yetWith joy I see the faults of all.
I kindle thus my pyre,
Ever to hear death's constant call.
My soul is far, too far;
In fruitless thoughts of clay I live.
Long lost my mission vast;
In eyeless chasm I now must grieve.
Sri Chinmoy, My first friendship with the Muse, Sri Chinmoy Lighthouse, New York, 1973
