The waving of the palm fronds by the sea Reminiscent of my history, The restless vital always pushing on Like a puppet or automaton Seeking the new yet thinking one is free To explore the ultimate mystery, Never succeeding, never reaching the calm Where, standing back, one can truly see The future through the rising of the storm And the pitfalls offered to the blind. Through the generous earth I did roam Until I found in the Ashram my soul's home.
Poems Undated (1727)
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