Canto 39The Call of the Impossible
Book 16. Part Seven - Pondicherry Circa 1927 – 1947
A godhead moves us to unrealised things.
Asleep in the wide folds of destiny,
A world guarded by Silence’ rustling wings
Shelters their fine impossibility:
5But parting quiver the caerulean gates;
Strange splendours look into our dreaming eyes;
We bear proud deities and magnificent fates;
Faces and hands come near from Paradise.
What shines above, waits darkling here in us:
10Bliss unattained our future’s birthright is,
Beauty of our dim souls grows amorous,
We are the heirs of infinite widenesses.
The impossible is our mask of things to be,
Mortal the door to immortality.