Only awhile at first these heavenlier states, These large wide-poised upliftings could endure. The high and luminous tension breaks too soon, The body’s stone stillness and the life’s hushed trance, The breathless might and calm of silent mind; Or slowly they fail as sets a golden day. The restless nether members tire of peace; A nostalgia of old little works and joys, A need to call back small familiar selves, To tread the accustomed and inferior way, The need to rest in a natural pose of fall, As a child who learns to walk can walk not long, Replace the titan will for ever to climb, On the heart’s altar dim the sacred fire. An old pull of subconscious cords renews; It draws the unwilling spirit from the heights, Or a dull gravitation drags us down To the blind driven inertia of our base. This too the supreme Diplomat can use, He makes our fall a means for greater rise. Ashwapati's heavenly uplifted states on the higher planes of consciousness could not persist in the beginning. ...