Harindranath Chattopadhyaya
Grief hath grown silent with its own excess
And will not weepiest it betray his trust.
Even in this dark hour of dire distress
He lights the flame of knowledge through our dust.
Illuminating its blindness wide and far
He glitters from his heaven of deathless grace.
In every speck and stone, in every star
We see the lonely wonder of his Face.
Ignorance rumours that our King departs;
Where can he go, O where? the being moans,
He who has made rich kingdoms of our hearts
And of our thoughts his countless jewelled thrones?
May he forgive our wavering faith, forgive
The folly of our doubts whose eyes re dim;
How dare we move or breathe except through him?
How could we live if he should cease to live?
(This was composed and sung by the author at the shrine of the Ashram soon after the Maha Nirvana of Sri Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi)