II.77. maddh akas ap jahan baithe THE MIDDLE region of the sky, wherein the spirit dwelleth, is radiant with the music of light; There, where the pure and white music blossoms, my Lord takes His delight. In the wondrous effulgence of each hair of His body, the brightness of millions of suns and of moons is lost. On that shore there is a city, where the rain of nectar pours and pours, and never ceases. Kabir says: 'Come, O Dharmadas! and see my great Lord's Durbar.'
I CANNOT remember my mother, only sometime in the midst of my play a tune seems to hover over my playthings, the tune of some song that she used to hum while rocking my cradle. I cannot remember my mother, but when in the early autumn morning the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air, the scent of the morning service in the temple comes to me as the scent of my mother. I cannot remember my mother, only when from my bedroom window I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky, I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face has spread all over the sky.
