O Sun of India’s sky,
O Moon of Bengal’s heart,
You were beautiful in your inner life,
You were beautiful in your outer life,
You were beauty incarnate in God’s entire creation.
Gloriously and triumphantly you secure your place
In the world-assembly with your creative force,
Supremely meaningful and fruitful in various walks of life.
Rabindranath was a Golden Song sung by the Divine Singer in him. He was, indeed, the World-Song, the golden chain that bound East and West. By his soul-awakening songs of transcendental beauty, Rabindranath charmed the world and seized the All-Blissful.
Excerpt from India, My India by Sri Chinmoy.
Love is an endless mystery,
for it has nothing else to explain it.
There is a point where in the mystery of
existence contradictions meet;
where movement is not all movement
and stillness is not all stillness;
where the idea and the form,
the within and the without, are united;
where infinite becomes finite,
yet not losing its infinity.