February 21, 1878
O Asia, O Ind, O tree
And the high and proud enormous bough.Devour your blind and naked pride.
The time is ripe for you to bowWith all your great past blotted out.
Ours alone is the Mother of gleam.The One has fertilised your large land
To reap in mirth the Light supreme;Therefore your haughtiness knew no bound.
A galaxy of flames and seers,Avatars were born in you to found
The Life divine in a world of tears,And for the fusion of East and West.
But all their efforts ended in smoke.Behold, the Mother's advent a Grace
Protecting all with a sun-wide cloak.She is the Bridge unique, divine
Between the two extremities.Her Birth declares, "All souls will live
With the One in a fire-pure release." ```From:Sri Chinmoy,The Mother of the Golden All, Agni Press, 1974
Sourced from https://srichinmoylibrary.com/mga