Of course, it hurts to
become yourself.
Birth hurts, death hurts.
But this struggle is God,
whose temple is the
cremation ground.
Constant struggle – that
is your offering,
what is sacred, what is
God’s.
Constant defeat doesn’t
mean anything.
Light your little name and
its hopes on fire,
make of your heart a
cremation ground,
and let Mother dance
there.
--from a free translation
and interpretation of Swami Vivekananda’s poem “And Let Shyama Dance There” by
Peter Schneidre (Hiranyagarbha)
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