O Mother of time, space, form, and relativity: Thou hast taken a finite form—Kali‐Divine, colossal idol‐symbol of all‐sheltering Nature. The invisible Spirit assumed Thy form as our visible Mother Divine. In Thee throbs the heart of all‐protecting, mothering kindness.

O Mother Divine! The moon is set like a beauty‐mark between Thy two dark eyebrows of twilight and night. Clouds of eternity veil Thy face. Gusts of prophetic lives have tried from time to time briefly to blow away Thy veil of mystery, and momentarily to reveal Thy face, so long unseen by our stares of ignorance. But who, truly, can fathom Thee?

O Mother Divine, in the dawn of creation I beheld Thee on the pathway of time, roaming in the rustic garb of primitive cultures, wearing the garments of untamed Nature and the garlands of unpolished minds that are conscious only of opaque, solid forms.

In the noon‐day of creation I beheld Thee in a lustrous garment of sunny minds, scorching men in the hot fire of their own desires. Thy body of activity perspired with restlessness. All Thy children felt the strain of the struggle, and implored Thee for the cooling breeze of Thy peace.

In Thy noon‐hour of fulfillment Thou didst visit equally the dark slums of misery, the glad halls of prosperity, and calm shrines of peaceful wisdom.

In Thy mid‐day attire of awakening, Thou didst travel through festive centuries, beholding the dream of human life and death, of planetary evolution and dissolution, of the birth and death of civilizations, of the drama of world‐unfolding nebulae dreaming new‐born planets, of earthquakes, and of limited dissolutions.

Then the dark night of cosmic dissolution approached, and Thou didst wear the dark, grim veil of mourning, putting Creation through the terrible, fiery, but purifying ordeal of universal destruction. The sun burst and belched fire; a cosmic shudder broke the bowl of the sky, dropping embers of meteors; and all Creation became a furnace of flames. Everything became fire: matter, human sins, and darkness—everything was cast into Thy crucible to be made pure and luminous.

Creation emerged again from the fire. Beneath the ashes of matter, the embers of Creation slept for a time, and then, rocked by Thy hands, O Mother Divine, awoke again in its body of pure flames.

Thy one hand of power wakes the unseen, creative force, taking many‐hued, finite forms. Another hand holds the astral sword of preservation, keeping all planets swinging in the rhythm of balance. Thy third hand clutches the severed head of the cosmos, representing complete dissolution when all Creation sleeps in Thee. Thy fourth hand calms the storm of delusion and bestows rays of salvation on Thy seeking devotees.

O Kali, Thou Cosmic Mother of all creative activity, garlanded by all human minds; Thy rhythmic, wild dance of creation ceases only when Thy foot touches the breast of Thy Invisible Consort of transcendent Spirit—Shiva, in whom all creation rests.

O Mother of Progress, I hear Thy dance of life in the tinkling little bells of laughing, harmonious lives. On the floor of my tender thoughts, Thine inspirations dance softly in rhythm with the music of the spheres.

In the hall of creation, everywhere, O Kali, I hear Thy footsteps dancing powerfully in the booming thunder, and softly in the gentle songs of atoms.

The Infinite sleeps beneath Thy magic shroud of delusion. And then, O Goddess of Manifested Forms, Thy fantasy of finitude begins to vibrate on Spirit’s bosom.

Nearer dost Thou dance than the very throbbing of my soul; Thy steps resound on the farthest horizons of my mind. Divine Mother, dance where Thou willst, but oh, I pray Thee, play the music of Thy magic footsteps also and ever in the sacred sanctum of my soul!

O Goddess Kali, woven into Thy changing robes are the dreams of creation, preservation, and destruction. Mother Divine, on the lambent veil of Thy consciousness play Thou a million cosmic dramas. Thus dost Thou entertain and amuse Thy good children, and frighten toward goodness Thy naughty ones.

Mother Divine, draw aside Thy glittering veil of countless motion picture scenes, and show me Thy all‐delusion‐dispersing face of mercy.


10. Demand for the Opening of the Spiritual Temple Doors Everywhere