There He comes, He who bursts open the closed buds of souls and mocks at the long wise face of me! And with a smile unravels all knots of the mind, rock-sealed so long in self-deception! And makes the old skip like fresh new children in the air, and whirls the crowds in the magic ring of His Presence, and makes them dance in a joy undisturbed with care. In his movement is what the dreamers dreamt, the seekers sought, and those with gifts wrought in word and deed. There stands He, the Unseen, Yet even near- Guru Gobind Singh, the Redeemer. Life lingers still on the meadows and the grass. The evening draws down its veil, the morning lifts it up! The housewife wakes to grind the corn, to draw water from the well, to the day’s labor. The ploughman goes with his plough and pair to till the ancient soil, to sow, to reap and to fill the home of God: The mason builds, and the carpenter shape wood, the maidens sing and spin the white cotton flakes.
All eyes rise to a vision of Him Who fought to free them, and the eternal bustle behind is alive with His Unseen resolves to love and die for all, He is Guru Gobind Singh, the Redeemer.