The Mother's wristwatch
"Mother of mine, beyond the sombre gripOf time art Thou veerless and ever free.
But thy Grace of love compels thy Blessing-Hand
To use my tiny beats of ecstasy,
Each supernal work of thine begins and ends
With my puny, feeble sound's tick infinite.
O who can measure save Thou my rapture strange?
Thy Grace my only breath through eternity."
"My child, I am for all, and all I use.
I guide all souls and things to my highest Fire.
But none can dare to say I stand in need,
For I alone save my core and the world entire."
Sri Chinmoy, The Mother of the Golden All, Agni Press, 1974