The Mother Divine
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by Swami Abhishiktananda (Henri Le Saux)

Arunachala is a symbol
And Arunachala is a Reality,
A high-place of the Dravidian land,
All ruddy, aruna, in the rays of the rising sun,
Where is worshipped the linga of fire,
The elemental sign of the Living God,
He who appeared to Moses in the burning bush
And on the summit of Mount Horeb,
Fire that burns and Fire that gives light,
Deus Ignis consumens
Lux mundi
Phos hilaron
The joyful light of the immortal glory
Of the Blessed One,

For there at the dawn of time was standing
The column of fire
Of which Brahma could not reach the summit
Nor could Vishnu find its foot,
Symbol as it was of unfathomable Love--
Anbe Shivam--
Which is the very ground of Being.

Later it took the form of a sapphire;
And then, in the evil times of our Kaliyuga,
The Linga of fire became stone
For the blessing of mankind,
The sacred Mountain,
Which the Lord set firmly on its foundation
And which is never shaken.

To its caves, age after age, there has come a succession
Of those who are hungry for wisdom and renunciation,
Whom the Mountain, the divine Magnet,
Draws to its bosom,
To teach them in its own silence
The royal path of the supreme Silence,
And how to be established in the Self--
Achala, Atmanishtha.

From its sides there flow springs
Sublimely named--
“The spring of the milk of grace”
“Milk from the breast of the divine Mother”--
Where pilgrims come
To bathe and drink.

And finally, from its crest on the great day of Thibam,
When the Sun sinks in the west,
And the full moon of Karttiki
Rises above the horizon,
There shoots up the Column of Fire,
Which reveals the secret of Light.
Hidden in the heart of the Mountain!

From the very Depth of Arunachala's Heart
There sounds a call
To him who speeds towards the Depth
of the Heart of Arunachala;
But he who enters into the Depth
of the Heart of Arunachala,
Has lost even his own name
And all that till then he was;
So that henceforth he is only the dweller in the Depth,
The one who lives within the Cave
of the Heart of Arunachala;
He has entered his own Depth,
Has been swallowed up in the Self,
Having discovered at the deepest centre of himself
The secret of Arunachala.

But for him who at last reaches the Depth
of the Heart of Arunachala,
Does there still remain a Depth?
Is there still an Arunachala?
What has become of the Mountain,
rosy-coloured Arunachala?
Where now are the springs
on the sides of Arunachala?
What has happened to the Light,
on the crest of Arunachala?

The caves themselves have vanished,
And with them the hermits of Arunachala;
Has not he himself also disappeared,
Swallowed up in the Depth
of the Heart of Arunachala,
Merged in the Self,
The Unique Arunachala?