I tremble in every limb, with fear I dine.
My soul becomes a rending surge of painThe moment human eyes are locked with mine.
Pangs shoot through me, but all in vain.Too fast my giant hopes are thinning out.
My heart, a stranger to God’s ivory Look.To free myself from my dingy past I cry out.
That’ll be the twelfth of Never; the hell I brook. ```From:Sri Chinmoy,God’s Glance and God’s Grace, Agni Press, 2006
Sourced from https://srichinmoylibrary.com/ggg