Art by Author
From thousands of Tagore's pages, I picked this one this morning, and what timing , what synchronicity... A message written in absence of space and time for the likes of us, the mystic writer and the receiving reader waking up again to this cycle of life and many deaths and many rebirths. Different hands and different faces, different lives. Same message. Different waves of the same sea .
The Gardener 85
BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred years.