FROM TRIUMPH to triumph they drove their chariot over the earth's torn breast. Round them Time's footsteps were muffled and slow, and birds' songs lay gathered in the bosom of Night. Drunken of red fire their torch spread its glare like an arrogant lotus floating upon the blue with stars above as bees enchanted. They boasted that the undying lights of the sky fed the flame they carried till it conquered the night and won homage from the sullen silence of the dark. The bell sounds. They start up to find they had slept dreaming of wealth and pollution of power and the pillage of God's own temple. The sun of the new day shines upon the night's surrender of love. The torch lies shrouded in its ashes, and the sky rings with the rejoicing voice, 'Victory to the earth! Victory to the heaven! Victory to the all-conquering Light!'
I. 20. man na rangaye THE YOGI dyes his garments, instead of dyeing his mind in the colours of love: He sits within the temple of the Lord, leaving Brahma to worship a stone. He pierces holes in his ears, he has a great beard and matted locks, he looks like a goat: He goes forth into the wilderness, killing all his desires, and turns himself into an eunuch: He shaves his dead and dyes his garments; he reads the Gita an becomes a mighty talker. Kabir says: 'You are going to the doors of death, bound hand and foot.'
