Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.-Rabindrath Tagore, Gitanjali 1
I love his image of the artist as a musical instrument through which the Divine Song enters into the world. As artists it is our job not to write the music, but to empty ourselves of it & keep the instrument clean and open so that the breath of The One can blow through us.I also love his descriptions of the emanations of the Divine..."thou pourest, and still there is room to fill." Beautiful, like sweet honey flowing into the world. Who wouldn't want to connect with that?