THE CONQUEST OF NATURE

The Birth of Man

"Here’s one with a bleeding heart,"
Rang abroad Love’s joyous cry.
Beauty trembled and said, "Look!
Here’s one with a seeing eye."

Nature was surprised to see
From its passive dust appear,
All of a sudden, one who was
Of himself maker. breaker, seer.

Whispers travelled all the way
From Eden to Night’s dark abode,
"Look out, veiled ones, here comes one
Who will tear up every shroud."

Not yet self-aware, Desire
Lay curled up in Being’s lap.
Opening its eyes, it saw
Before it a new world unwrap.

Life exclaimed, "O happy day!
I writhed in dust aeon after aeon.
Now has opened at long last
A door out of this ancient prison."

Satan’s Refusal.

I am no creature of mere light
That I should bow to man.
He is a base-born thing of dust,
And I am of fire born.

The blood in the veins of the world
Is lit up by my flame.
The tearing speed of wind is mine,
And mine is thunder’s boom.

I forge the atoms’ harmony,
The elements’ concourse.
I burn, but also shape: I am
The fire that makes the glass.

The things I make I break to bits
And scatter in the dust,
In order to create new forms
From fragments of those lost.

This restlessly revolving sky
Is a wave of my sea;
And in my throbbing substance dwells
The shape of things to be.

The stars’ bodies were made by You;
I am their motive force.
I am the substances of the world.
I am life’s primal source.

The body draws its soul from you.
But I arouse the soul.
While You waylay with blissful peace,
I lead with action’s call.

I never begged obedience
Of slaves who always pray.
I rule without a hell: I judgc
Without a Judgement Day

That low-born creature of earth, man,
Of mean intelligence,
Though born in Your lap, will grow old
Under my vigilance.

The Temptation of Adam

A life of struggle, strain and stress
Is better than eternal rest.
When a dove strains hard at its net,
An eagle’s heart beats in its breast.

O you are fit for nothing but
Abject obeisance like a slave.
Like a tall cypress stand erect,
O you who do not act but crave.

These streams of milk and honey have
Deprived you of the strength to act.
Come take a hearty draught of wine
From the cup of the vine direct.

Good and evil, virtue and sin,
Are myths created by your Lord.
Come taste the joy of action and
Go forth to seek your due reward.

Arise, for I will show to you
The prospect of a whole new world.
Unveil your eyes and look around;
Go forth and see it all unfurled.

You are a tiny, worthless drop;
Become a shining, priceless pearl.
Descend from Eden’s halcyon heights
And plunge into the life-stream’s swirl.

You are a brightly shining sword
Go dip into Creation’s heart.
To prove your mettle issue forth
And from your scabbard’s bosom part.

Unfold your eagle-wings and soar
And shed the blood of timid quails.
O for an eagle it is death
To live within its eyrie’ walls.

You have not learnt this lesson yet ;
Fulfilment dooms desire to death.
You know what is eternal life?
To burn anew with each new breath.

Adam Sings on His Exit from Paradise

O what a joy it is to make
One’s life a constant, ardent glow!
And with one’s breath make desert, hill
And plain like molten metal flow!
Open a door out of one’s cage
Onto the garden’s vast expanse!
Roam in the spaces of the sky,
And tell the stars one’s weal and woe
With secret yearnings, open prayers,
Cast looks on Beauty’s seraglio!

At times to see a single flower
In the riot of a whole field,
At other times tell hurtful thorns
From roses that in their midst blow!

I burn in a slow-burning fire;
I am an agonised desire.
I give up faith for living doubt;
I seek, I question, I aspire.

The Day of Judgement: Adam in God’s Presence.

O You, who are the sun from whom
The satellite of soul draws light,
You have made of my heart a lamp
That keeps Your whole Creation bright.

I took Your ocean and poured it
Into canals made by my art.
My pickaxe brought forth streams of milk
And honey from the mountain’s heart.

The Moon is my devoted slave,
And Venus is my worshipper.
My enterprising intellect
Has made me Nature’s conqueror.

I delved into the depths of earth,
And I soared the heights of the sky,
The mighty sun and tiny motes
Are all thralls of my sorcery.

I was deflected from the path
Of virtue by the Devil’s fraud.
Forgive my error and accept
My humble penitence, O God:

One cannot subjugate the world
Unless one yields to its allure;
For Beauty’s wild pride is not tamed
Until it falls into Love’s snare.

In order to melt the heart
Of this stone god with a fervid sigh,
I had to wear his sacred thread
As proof of my idolatry.

Though Nature is ingenious, yet
To intellect it falls a prey,
And Ahriman, the fireborn god,
Kneels down and worships mortal clay.