Poems of Narad

In this Playground of the Lord

On the mountain of my failures now I stand
And look across the ridgeline of my life,
The valleys deep, the summits yet to climb
Yet know my days reverent and true,
Fear not the precipice; the outstretched hand
Upholds and leads, banishes all strife,
I move through many births, aware that time
Is meaningless and death no meaning too.
Escaping from the cell of our despair
In the prison of our separateness
Unchained and free to soar above the walls
That hold our ignorance and seal our fate
While the guards of our inconscience lie asleep.
No earthly force or otherworldly stress
Can stay our journey to the golden halls
Where all the tides of violence and hate
Are swept away, no longer ours to keep.
There is a peace containing every sound
And a sound that holds all music in its peace.
I worship Auroville, the sacred ground,
In this playground of the Lord is our release.