Our godhead calls us in unrealised things. <br />Asleep in the wide fields of destiny, <br />A world guarded by Silence' rustling wings <br />Sheltered their fine impossibility. <br /> <br />But part, but quiver the cerulean gates, <br />Close splendours look into our dreaming eyes; <br />We bear proud deities and magnificent fates; <br />Faces and hands come near from Paradise. <br /> <br />What shone thus far above is here in us; <br />Bliss unattained our future's birthright is; <br />Beauty of our dim soul is amorous, <br />We are the heirs of infinite widenesses. <br /> <br />The impossible is the hint of what shall be, <br />Mortal the door to immortality.<br /><br />Sri Aurobindo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-call-of-the-impossible/
