Of What Is Made Thy Heart?
When stars and moon are mute in trance
My bosom pines for Thee.
My love for Thee smashes my pride
Of dumb eternity.
I hear at times Thy golden flute,
But beyond my reach Thou art.
My sacrifice in vain will end.
Of what is made Thy Heart?
By: Sri Chinmoy
From: My First Friendship with the Muse
