To Raja Rao, in Tribute (From the Poem of Heaven Within)

And do not call it a dream when he appears in whom lives nothing but the splendor of reduction, the awareness no longer perceptible when everything that comes up before one has been removed and what is left is the pure bliss of irreducible being which issues from him and touches you, lifts up in you what has lain there dormant and is the same as what he is only not awakened until he appears and he tells you that he has lived with you always, down the corridor like a lodger of whom one does not take much notice but who has come now, and only he knows why now, to at last declare you to yourself. And you announce to someone else who also lives with you, that he has come at last. And you stand, both of you, bathed in his bliss, and there is not, there never has been any other happiness, for this is the source of whatever it is that has made you happy. And it is as though even your flesh dissolved in the water of this bliss, that even your body has become insubstantial, nothing but the flow, this heaven that flows nowhere, that is less than aqueous, a shine less of a discernible glow than of the lamps on a bridge in the darkness below. And in the dream you can hardly believe that this has in fact happened to you but know it has, for you have always known him, but inadequately; and now, he has come before you, has declared you, and has removed, for now, this insufficiency. And the day that follows, the day itself seems washed in the bliss he had awakened, washed in a clarity as you have rarely seen, as you sit on your terrace still dazed by the wonder, feeling no less afloat than the wind that sways the poplars in the distance, the lilies, strung vines and roses nearby, touches them as though the wind itself were nothing but a wind of light, and the brightness is marked by a sharpness, the darkness of shadows, of clouds, of trees, of houses, as distinctly dark as the brightness is bright. And it stays with you, the effect of the wondrous encounter, and you know it was not a dream but the stare of reality itself that had come to you in dream's guise.