How shall ascending Nature near her goal?
Not through man's stumbling tardy intellect
Patient all forms and powers to dissect,
But by the surer vision of his soul.
An algebra of mind, a scheme of sense,
A symbol language without depth or wings,
A power to handle deftly outward things
Are our scant earnings of intelligence.
The Truth is greater and asks deeper ways:
A sense that gathers all in its own being,
A close and luminous touch, an intimate seeing,
A thought flung free from the words' daedal maze,
A tranquil heart in sympathy with all,
A will one-pointed, wide, imperial.
Reference: # 71 in "Les poèmes de Sri
Aurobindo" (bilingual edition)
also in "More poems" - 75
and "Collected Poems" - 167
all published by Sri
Aurobindo Ashram - Pondicherry
diffusion by SABDA