THOU HAST come again to me in the burst of a sudden storm, filling my sky with the shudder of thy shadowy clouds. The Sun is hidden, the stars are lost; the red line of the road is merged in the mist of the rain; the wail of the wind comes across the water. Fitful showers, like ghastly fingers, strike the chords of some unseen harp, waking up the music of the dark, sweeping my heart with a shiver of sounds.
LET THE LINKS of my shackles snap at every step of thy dance, O Lord of Dancing, and let my heart wake in the freedom of the eternal voice. Let it feel the touch of that foot that ever sets swinging the lotus-seat of the muse, and with its perfume maddens the air through ages. Rebellious atoms are subdued into forms at thy dance-time, the suns and planets,anklets of light,twirl round thy moving feet, and, age after age. Things struggle to wake from dark slumber, through pain of life, into consciousness, and the ocean of thy bliss breaks out in tumults of suffering and joy. Before I leave, tinge my heart in secret with thine own colour, the colour of the young smile, of tears shaded with ancient sadness. Let it tinge my thoughts, my deeds, the flame of my evening lamp, the waking moment of my midnight. Before I leave, rouse my heart with the swing of thy dancing feet, the swing that wakens stars in the deep of night, frees the stream from the rocky cave, gives voice to clouds in thunder and rain, the swing by which the balance in the centre of existence is swayed in endless cycles of movement.
IN THE WORLD'S dusty road I lost my heart, but you picked it up in your hand. I gleaned sorrow while seeking for joy, but the sorrow which you sent to me has turned to joy in my life. My desires were scattered in pieces, you gathered them and strung them in your love. And while I wandered from door to door, every step led me to your gate.
