- Hi Everybody,
This is the poem about Mother Kali by Sister Nivedita, the closest disciple of Vivekananda. It inspired me a lot and I hope you will find it very encouragin too.
THE VOICE OF MOTHER
Arise, my child and go forth a man.
Bear manfully what is thy lot to bear!
That which comes to thy hand to be done,
Do with full strenght and fear not.
Forget not that I, the giver of manhood,
The holder of victory am thy Mother.
Think not life is serious!
What is destiny but thy Mother's play?
Come, be My playfellow awhile, -
Meet all happenings merrily.
Murmerest thou of need of purpose?
Think'st thou the ball is purposless,
Whith which the Mother plays?
Know'st thou not that Her toy is a thunderbolt,
Charged with power to shatter the worlds,
At the turn of Her wrist?
Ask not of plans. Needs the arrow any plan
When it is loosed from the bou? Such art thou.
When the life is lived, the plan will stand revealed.
Till then, O child of time, know nothing!
My sport is unerring. For that alone
Set forth on the day's journey.
Think it was for My pleasure
Thou came'st forth into the world, and for that again,
When night falls, and My desire is accomplished,
I shall withdraw thee to My-rest.
Ask nothing. Seek nothing. Plan nothing.
Let My Will flow thorugh thee,
As the ocean through the empty shell.
But this thing understand.
Not one movement shall be in vain.
Not one effort shall fail at last.
The Dream shall be less,
Not greater than the deed.
Thou shall go here or there for some petty reason,
And thy going shall subserve great ends.
Thou shall meet and speak with many,
But some few shall be mine from the beginning.
With these thou shall exchange a secret sign,
And they shall follow with thee.
And that sign?
Deep in the heart of hearts of Mine own flashes
The secrificial knife of Kali.
Worshippers of the Mother are they from their birth.
In Her incarnation of the sword.
Lovers of death are they, - not lovers of life
And of storm and stress.
Such shall come to thee with torch unlit for fire.
My Voice cry out over the teeming earth for lives.
For the lives and blood of the crowned kings of men.
Remember that I who cry, have shown also
The way to answer.
For, of every kind has the mother been the first,
For protection of her flock, to leap to death.
Religion, called by whatever name,
Has been ever the love of death.
But to-day the flame of renunciation
Shall be ligthed in My lands
And consume men with a passion
Beyond control of thought.
Than shall My people thirst for self-secrifice.
Then shall labour and sufferings and service
Be counted sweet instead of bitter.
For this age is great in time, and I, even I,
Kali, am the Mother of the nations.
Shrink not from defeat, embrace despair.
Pain is not different from pleasure, if I will both.
Rejoice therefore, when thou come'st
To the place of tears, and see Me smile.
At such spots do I keep My tryst with men,
And fold them deep into My heart.
Uproot every interest that would conflict with Mine.
Neither love, nor friendship, nor comfort, nor home,
May make its voice heard when I Speak.
Pass from a palace to plunge into the ocean of terror,
From the chamber of ease to stand gurad in a burning city.
Know that as the one is unreal, so also is the other.
Meet fate with smile.
Look for no mercy for thyself, and I shall make thee
Bearer of great vessels for mercy to others.
Accept bravely thine own darkness and thy lamp shall chear many.
Fulfill gladly the meanest service, and leave high places unsought!
Be steadfast in the toil I set thee.
Weave well the warp into the woof.
Shrink from no demand that the task makes on thee.
Feel no responsibility. Ask for no reward.
Strong, fearless, resolute.
When the sun sets, and the game is done,
Thou shalt know well, little one, that I Kali,
The giver of manhood, and the giver of womanhood,
And the withholder of Victory, am thy Mother.
Gratitude to all for posting,