Guiding Light of The Month

WHY all this noise, all this movement, this vain and futile agitation; why this whirlwind carrying men away like a swarm of flies caught in a storm? How sad is the sight of all that wasted energy, all those useless efforts! When will they stop dancing like puppets on a string, pulled they know not by whom or what? When will they find time to sit quietly and go within, to recollect themselves and open that inner door which screens from them Thy priceless treasures, Thy infinite boons? - The Mother

The flower of grace



As a river flows through lands
Waterfalls silver down high mountains
The rain showers musically on earth
Her grace sings with the jingle of her bangles.

A sweet flower, over there in the mellifluous air,
A little shy, white and pink, smiling as the Sweet Mother,
Blossoms every day to fill the air with her Grace.
The flower of grace, Hibiscus mutabillis.

It sings of Her grace,
The grace that saves lives.
It invokes Her grace,
The grace that enriches lands
It brings her grace,
The grace that progresses lives.

A sweet music is Her grace,
It is her music for life on earth.

Sandhya

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