You WILL LEAD me from star to star to waken me in new mornings of love. It is your love that draws out the flow of my being through the maze of channels of new life over your endless worlds. You will startle me with new visions of fulfilment at every bend of the road and fashion my moments with immortal forms of joy. The infinite life will never remain chained in unchanging shackles of immortality but will speed through death to death to countless new shrines of light in its eternal pilgrimage of love.
WHEN THE GONG sounds ten in the morning and I walk to school by our lane, Every day I meet the hawker crying, 'Bangles, crystal bangles!' There is nothing to hurry him on, there is no road he must take, no place he must go to, no time when he must come home. I wish I were a hawker, spending my day in the road, crying, 'Bangles, crystal bangles!' When at four in the afternoon I come back from the school, I can see through the gate of that house the gardener digging the ground. He does what he likes with his spade, he soils his clothes with dust, nobody takes him to task if he gets baked in the sun or gets wet. I wish I were a gardener digging away at the garden with nobody to stop me from digging. Just as it gets dark in the evening and my mother sends me to bed, I can see through my open window the watchman walking up and down. The lane is dark and lonely, and the street-lamp stands like a giant with one red eye in its head. The watchman swings his lantern and walks with his shadow at his side, and never once goes to bed in his life. I wish I were a watchman walking the streets all night, chasing the shadows with my lantern.
