And when I fell in fitful sleep I dreamed I heard the angels weep To see the fiery demon horde Attack a servant of the Lord.
On this bed of sorrow lies A spirit broken, with blinded eyes While all the saints of mercy weep And on his soul a vigil keep.
The Mother drawing close his head Prepares again to stay the dread And fearful presence that descends To steal the soul for evil ends.
The fledgling aspirant to light Is rescued from the throes of night, Morning breaks and day begins In gratitude and disciplines
Of music, dance and poetry Composed in an ashram's sanctity Within these hallowed silent grounds The Grace supreme his life surrounds.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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