Towards democracy, стр. 101

Towards Democracy 87

I have passed away and entered the gate of heaven. ] am absolved from all torment. All is well to me.

A tiny infant am I once more, leaning out from my mother’s arms as one leans from a balcony. But the world hangs flat before me like a painted curtain: the sun and the moon and men’s faces are all alike. This is my dream. The sound of music comes calling to me, calling, calling. Listening I lean forward with open mouth and far-distant gaze, and am profoundly still. [Let who looks upon me see with his own eyes my dark soul’s myriad re-awakening. |

I am a wild cat crouching at night in the angle of a bough, I am Arjuna reasoning on the battle-field with Krishna—learning the lessons of divine knowledge. I am a teacher scanning the faces of those who sit opposite to me. ll is well.

I labor all day in the drizzle with pick and shovel; the smell of fire I strike from the rock pleases me; I return home tired and wet in the early dusk to my tea.

I am one of a rustic party of actors; in the old farmparlor we rehearse our parts, with shouts of laughter. I go into the cowshed last thing at night with my lantern to see that all is well.

I am a shepherd on the breezy hills; the wholesome aromatic odors of the grass transfuse me; my sheep graze on and on through the noonday; I lie in the sun and think and speak of little beside ewes and tups.

I stand in the chamber of Death and gaze upon the swathed larval form—the solid world recedes around it;