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Poem 13

Kabir

O MY heart! the Supreme Spirit, the great Master, is near you: wake, oh wake!
Run to the feet of your Beloved: for
your Lord stands near to your head.
You have slept for unnumbered ages; this morning will you not wake?




Quotes of the Day

Going to war without the French is like going duck hunting without your accordian.
• General Norman Scwartzkopf


Poems of the Day
  • T. S. Eliot
    Preludes
    by T. S. Eliot
    I THE WINTER evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o’clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps The grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet