The Vision Into Which I Grow
The Vision Into Which I Grow
I have lived a dream of Auroville and prayed
For peace among the scattered tribes of men.
A fateful hand upon my head was laid
That I might not relive the past again.
In my heart a deepened longing stirs
For beauty and the advent of the light,
Majestic soaring of the solemn firs
And countless stars upon the loom of night.
Here the land is difficult and hard
To penetrate its clay and gravel base
But I was called by the voice of God
And carried to this dry and barren place
To plant, to labour, that I in time might know
Myself and the vision into which I grow.
