tension in time and space, but in the innermost solitude of consciousness, in the region of the profound and the intense. Through this meeting he has felt the creation of a new world, a world of light and love that has no language but of music of silence.
Of this the poet has sung:
There is an endless world, O my Brother.
And there is a nameless Being of whom nought can be said.
Only he knows who has reached that region:
It is other than all that is heard and said.
No form, no body, no length, no breadth, is seen there:
How can I tell you that which it is?
Kabir says: "It cannot be told by the words of the mouth, it cannot be written on paper:
It is like a dumb person who tastes a sweet thing—how shall it be explained?"
No, it cannot be explained, it has to be realized; and when man has done so, he sings:
The inward and the outward has become as one sky,
The infinite and the finite are united:
I am drunken with the sight of this All.
The poet in this has reached Reality which is ineffable, where all contradictions have been harmonized. For the ultimate reality is in the Person and not in the law and substance. And man must feel that if this universe is not the manifestation of a Supreme Person, then it is a
