There is a truth to know, a work to do ...

'The Secret Knowledge' – Savitri, Canto IV:


'The master of existence lurks in us

And plays at hide-and-seek with his own Force;

In nature's instrument loiters secret God.

The immanent lives in man as in his house;

He has made the universe his pastime's field,

A Vast gymnasium of his works of might.

All-knowing he accepts our darkened state,

Divine, wears shapes of animal or man;

Eternal, he assents to Fate and Time,

Immortal, dallies with mortality.

The All-Conscious ventured into Ignorance,

The All-Blissful bore to be insensible.

Incarnate in a world of strife and pain

He puts on joy and sorrow like a robe

And drinks experience like a strengthening wine.

He whose transcendence rules the pregnant Vasts,

Prescient now dwells in our subliminal depths,

A luminous individual Power, alone.

The Absolute, the Perfect, the Alone

Has called out of the Silence his mute force

Where she lay in the featureless and formless hush

Guarding from Time by her immobile sleep

The ineffable puissance of his solitude.

The Absolute, the Perfect, the Alone

Has entered with his silence into space;

He has fashioned these countless persons of one self;

He has built a million figures of his power.

He lives in all, who lived in his Vast alone;

Space his himself and time is only he.

The Absolute, the Perfect, the Immune,

One who is in us as our secret self,

Our mask of imperfection has assumed,

He has made this tenement of flesh his own,

His image in the human measure cast

That to his divine measure we might rise;

Then in a figure of divinity

The Maker shall recast us and impose

A plan of godhead on the mortal's mould

Lifting our finite minds to his infinite,

Touching the moment with eternity.

This transfiguration is earth's due to heaven:

A mutual debt binds man to the Supreme:

His nature we must put on as he put ours;

We are sons of God and must be even as he:

His human portion, we must grow divine.

Our life is a paradox with God for key.

...He has crossed the limit of mortal thought and hope,

He has reached the world's end and stares beyond;

The eyes of mortal body plunge their gaze

Into Eyes that look upon eternity.

A greater world Time's traveler must explore.

At last he hears a chanting on the heights

And the far speaks and the unknown grows near:

He crosses the boundaries of the unseen

And passes over the edge of mortal sight

To a new vision of himself and things...

Across the rapt unknowable silences,

Through a strange mid-world under supernal skies,

Beyond earth's longitudes and latitudes,

His goal is fixed outside all present maps.

... Through the thunder's roar and through the windless hush,

Through fog and mist where nothing more is seen

He carries her sealed orders in his breast.

...Whoever leaves her, he will not depart

To repose with her in the Unknowable.

There is a truth to know, a work to do;

Her play is real; a Mystery he fulfills:

A purpose in her vast and random game.

This ever she meant since the first dawn of life,

This constant will he covered with her sport,

To evoke a Person in the impersonal Void,

With the truth-Light strike earth's massive roots of trance,

Wake a dumb self in the inconscient depths

And raise a lost Power from its python sleep

That the eyes of the Timeless might look out from Time

And the world manifest the unveiled Divine.

For this he left his white infinity

And laid on the spirit the burden of the flesh,

That Godhead's seed might flower in mindless Space.'

[bold emphasis added]

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