Readings in Sri Aurobindo's Savitri: A Legend and a Symbol from Book II, Canto 8

0:01 For terrible agencies the spirit allows, and there are subtle and enormous powers that shield themselves with the covering ignorance, Offspring of the gulfs, agents of the shadowy force, haters of light, intolerant of peace. Aping to the thought, the shining friend and guide, opposing in the heart the eternal will, they veil the occult, uplifting harmonist. His wisdom's oracles are made our bonds the doors of God. They have locked with keys of creed, and shut out by the law his tireless grace.

0:42 Along all nature's lines they have set their posts and intercept the caravans of light. Wherever the gods act, they intervene. A yoke is laid upon the world's dim heart. Masked are its beats from the supernal bliss, and the closed peripheries of brilliant mind block the fine entries of celestial fire. Always the dark adventurers seem to win nature. They fill with evils. Institutes turn into defeats. The victories of truth proclaim as falsehoods the eternal laws, and load the dice of doom With wizard lies.

1:27 The world shrines they have occupied usurped its Thrones in scorn of the dwindling chances of the gods. They claim creation as their conquered thief, and crown themselves the iron Lords of time. Adepts of the illusion and the mask. The artificers of nature's fall and pain have built their altars of triumphant night in the clay temple of terrestrial life, in the vacant precincts of the sacred fire in front of the raredos, in the Mystic rite facing the dim villam and nun can Pierce in tones his solemn hymn, the mitred priest, invoking their dreadful presence in his breast, attributing to them the awful name, he chants the syllables of the magic texts, and summons the unseen communions act while twixt the incense and the muttered prayer. All the fierce Bale with which the world is wracked is mixed in the foaming chalice of man's heart, and poured to them like sacramental wine.

2:42 Assuming names divine, they guide and rule opponents of the highest. They have come out of their world of soulless thought and power to serve by enmity. The cosmic scheme Night is their refuge and strategic base against the Sword of Flame, the Luminous Eye bastions. They live in massive forts of gloom, calm and secure in sunless privacy. No wandering ray of heaven can enter there. Armored, protected by their lethal masks, as in a studio of creative death, the giant sons of darkness sit and plan the drama of the earth, their tragic stage. All who would raise the fallen world must come under the dangerous arches of their power, for even the radiant children of the gods to darken their privileges and dreadful right. None can reach heaven who has not passed through hell.