I walked on the high-wayed Seat of Solomon

Where Shankaracharya’s tiny temple stands

Facing Infinity from Time’s edge, alone

On the bare ridge ending earth’s vain romance.

Around me was a formless solitude:

All had become one strange Unnamable1,

An unborn sole Reality world-nude,

Topless and fathomless, for ever still.

A Silence that was Being’s only word,

The unknown beginning and the voiceless end

Abolishing all things moment-seen or heard,

On an incommunicable summit reigned,

A lonely Calm and void unchanging Peace

On the dumb crest of Nature’s mysteries.