I lay garlands of my devotion, strung with many‐hued flowers of lofty inspiration, at Thy lotus feet.

I beheld Thee dancing in the twinkling stars. I glimpsed Thy scintillating magic in the aurora borealis. I heard the dance of Thy beating feet in crashing ocean waves as they rushed toward earth’s shores. I marveled at Thy leaps and pirouettes portraying, on the great stage of time, evolution’s fantastic upward sweep. And I thrilled to see, everywhere, excitement and activity in Thy great drama of all life.

Alas, Divine Mother! I have yet to behold Thy bliss‐face peeping from behind what I now know to be only veils! The thick clouds of outward appearances are offset by little, teasing hints of Thy smile, reflected in my breeze‐rippled, flickering thoughts.

How long I have longed to behold Thee! My yearning burns with a million tongues of flame. They leap high, and light the vast firmament of my consciousness. The force that holds together the planets binds together also into a heavy ball the burden of my self recognition, holding me to earth.

Yet the twinkling stars of my soul‐aspiration spin high overhead, and form a mighty whirlwind which draws me upward. Their light beams down upon me, banishing my shadows of ignorance and dissolving, one by one, all the crusted limitations that cover my soul. Light transforms the gray pebbles of my desires into shining crystals reflecting Thy joy.

By my light of concentrated aspiration, all falseness has been consumed. Ah, but, Divine Mother, where art Thou? A great void around me mocked my very yearning.

“Why?” I asked. And my tears fell—dewdrops of shining light from my firmament above. Then at last Thy sweet voice came, tender with compassion; I heard Thee say: “The very light by which thou seekest Me is, already, Myself ! Thou hast sought Me elsewhere than in thyself; yet I am thou! Thou art I! There can never be aught but thine own Self. I come to thee through thyself. Worship me as separate, if you like, but know who I am: thy very own Self! O eternally beloved child, we are one!”

Mother, how can I thank Thee! I will ever be Thine, for Thou art eternally mine. Still, I love to behold Thee through my window of self‐understanding as if dancing outside me also; to see Thee smiling with tantalizing sweetness! Yet I know the dance takes place, in truth, only here in my own heart.


208. Thou Didst Reveal Thy Silver Rays of Speaking Silence