The soul is neither Indian, nor French, nor dark, nor yellow
It is divine, has no country, no nationality, no religion, no colour.
It is an immortal portion of the Divine taking part in a world – play.
At every new birth, it puts on a new costume and plays its new role.
Forgetting its past, it acts as if it had always been the same person –
The present role for it, is the ultimate reality – such is the yoga-maya.
The soul retains the souvenir in its depths but man is unaware of it.
When he becomes aware of the soul, through yoga, by the divine Grace,
The entire earth-life seems to him a horrible demented game.
Today’s mortal enemies were close friends in other forgotten lives.
There are only different costumes, there is no one eternally Indian,
French, German, Chinese, American, African, Christian, Hindu,
Muslim Buddhist, an Atheist, a Pagan, a Priest, a criminal or a demon.
The soul in its ascension towards the Divine, takes delight in playing
Any number of roles by far surpassing all we can imagine.
When man becomes conscious of his soul, through thousands of rebirths
He recognises the immortal divine inhabitant in the house of clay,
All are to him, eternal comrades, more intimate than blood relations.
To him, they are all his own family, inseparable by time or space.
Each face bears a special trait of the One forever veiled.
All these insane wars, stupid division, ego-driven chaos and destruction,
Must cease one day with the awakening of the soul in man.
The auspicious hour has come, The Mother is restoring our sight.
An utter surrender to the Mother Divine will render the veil
And release the Sadhak in the daylight no longer followed by night.
The kingdom of God on earth promised from old times will now materialise
There will be peace and harmony, joy of progress, song and laughter everywhere.
