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At the Feet of The Mother

The Deformation, pp. 135-136

Opening remarks
The dark deforming power that opposes the Divine plan takes hold of the force of life in its beginnings upon earth and twists it into something dark and even ugly.

An unhappy face of falsity
An unhappy face of falsity made true,
A contradiction of our divine birth,
Indifferent to beauty and to light,
Parading she flaunted her animal disgrace
Unhelped by camouflage, brutal and bare,
An authentic image recognised and signed
Of her outcast force exiled from heaven and hope,
Fallen, glorying in the vileness of her state,
The grovel of a strength once half divine,
The graceless squalor of her beast desires,
The staring visage of her ignorance,
The naked body of her poverty.

The seed of restless, blind desire is born in the dark womb and life stirs with wants and cravings, hunger and thirst, lust and fear and rage, wandering in swamps and slime, forgetful of her origin and high goal. She lives as a king exiled from his royal kingdom, stripped of all his regal robes and powers. Her divine strength now turns into a Titan’s, Her Wisdom is transmuted as if by an evil spell into an ignorance. Far from beauty and light, life now assumes the face and mask of brutal disgrace. The truth within her heart is turned into a falsehood on the surfaces.

The cabin of mud and the clinging darkness
Here first she crawled out from her cabin of mud
Where she had lain inconscient, rigid, mute:
Its narrowness and torpor held her still,
A darkness clung to her uneffaced by Light.

As she steps out of the dark prison-hole of matter, the darkness clings to her and the torpor and unconsciousness born out of the Inconscient.

No redeeming touch
There neared no touch redeeming from above:
The upward look was alien to her sight,
Forgotten the fearless godhead of her walk;
Renounced was the glory and felicity,
The adventure in the dangerous fields of Time:
Hardly she availed, wallowing, to bear and live.

Even the upward look towards her lost forgotten home was not yet there. Nor did any redeeming touch appear to uplift her from this fallen state. Her glory and felicity natural to her high divine estate was left behind even as she had forgotten her divinity, wallowing in the mud and slime of earth-nature.

Closing Remarks
It is the Inconscient that deforms life by casting upon her a spell of unconsciousness and falsehood, wrapping her seed in a hard coat of darkness and, cursing her with death.

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There is nothing sentimental in the true weeping that comes from the soul. All that you feel now is the blossoming of the psychic being in you and the growth of a real bhakti.