In the hall of life, decorated with mountains, stormy cataracts, and wild scenery, I have played long. Each time, when, tired of play, I cried for Thee, Thou didst drop down through the skylight of my heart’s craving some new doll of fame, friends, or prosperity to quiet me. This time, Divine Mother, I will play the naughty baby. I will sob unceasingly. No more shall the toys of earthly pleasure stop my cries. O Divine Mother, Thou must come soon, or I will waken all Creation with my cries! I will make all Thy sleeping children wake and join me in a chorus of wails. Forsake Thy busyness with the housework of Thy Creation! I demand attention. I demand Thee! I no longer want Thy playthings!
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