Here is a passage of 72 lines appearing towards the end of the Book of Fate, pp. 460-62. This forms absolutely the last piece of dictation given by Sri Aurobindo around 15 November 1950, less than three weeks before his withdrawal on 5 December 1950. The fact that the whole passage came out practically in one go is amazing, is remarkable, in the sense of the power of inspiration bringing with it the substance and the rhythmic movement. Apart from the occult-yogic dimensions it reveals, it shows the greatness of the poet with all the inspiration at his full command. Here he is not counting trochees and iambs to build a line, but they simply fall into proper places, in the power of their revelation and their inevitability, the hallmark of authentic poetry straight coming from the womb of the omniscient and omni-rhythmed movement. To quote Sri Aurobindo again, technique :

… all that is usually taken care of by the inspiration itself, … the two agents are sight and call. Also feeling—the solar plexus has to be satisfied... I may add that the technique does not go by any set mental rule—for the object is not perfect technical elegance according to precept but sound-significance filling out the word-significance. If that can be done by breaking rules, well, so much the worse for the rule.

The 72-line passage is easily one of the finest examples of inspiration taking care of everything. Here it is:

Queen, strive no more to change the secret will; Time's accidents are steps in its vast scheme. Bring not thy brief and helpless human tears Across the fathomless moments of a heart That knows its single will and God's as one: It can embrace its hostile destiny; It sits apart with grief and facing death, Affronting adverse fate armed and alone. In this enormous world standing apart In the mightiness of her silent spirit's will, In the passion of her soul of sacrifice Her lonely strength facing the universe, Affronting fate, asks not man's help nor god's: Sometimes one life is charged with earth's destiny, It cries not for succour from the time-bound powers. Alone she is equal to her mighty task. Intervene not in a strife too great for thee, A struggle too deep for mortal thought to sound, Its question to this Nature's rigid bounds When the soul fronts nude of garbs the infinite, Its too vast theme of a lonely mortal will Pacing the silence of eternity. As a star, uncompanioned, moves in heaven Unastonished by the immensities of space, Travelling infinity by its own light, The great are strongest when they stand alone. A God-given might of being is their force, A ray from self's solitude of light the guide; The soul that can live alone with itself meets God; Its lonely universe is their rendezvous. A day may come when she must stand unhelped On a dangerous brink of the world's doom and hers, Carrying the world's future on her lonely breast, Carrying the human hope in a heart left sole To conquer or fail on a last desperate verge. Alone with death and close to extinction's edge. Her single greatness in that last dire scene, She must cross alone a perilous bridge in Time And reach an apex of world-destiny Where all is won or all is lost for man. In that tremendous silence lone and lost Of a deciding hour in the world's fate, In her soul's climbing beyond mortal time When she stands sole with Death or sole with God Apart upon a silent desperate brink, Alone with her self and death and destiny As on some verge between Time and Timelessness When being must end or life rebuild its base, Alone she must conquer or alone must fall. No human aid can reach her in that hour, No armoured God stand shining at her side. Cry not to heaven, for she alone can save. For this the silent Force came missioned down; In her the conscious Will took human shape: She only can save herself and save the world. O queen, stand back from that stupendous scene, Come not between her and her hour of Fate. Her hour must come and none can intervene: Think not to turn her from her heaven-sent task, Strive not to save her from her own high will. Thou hast no place in that tremendous strife; Thy love and longing are not arbiters there, Leave the world's fate and her to God's sole guard. Even if he seems to leave her to her lone strength, Even though all falters and falls and sees an end And the heart fails and only are death and night, God-given her strength can battle against doom Even on a brink where Death alone seems close And no human strength can hinder or can help. Think not to intercede with the hidden Will, Intrude not twixt her spirit and its force But leave her to her mighty self and Fate.

Let us just scan a few of the opening lines:

Queen', strive'| no more| to change'| the sec'|ret will'; | Time's' acc'|idents| are steps'| in its| vast' scheme'.| Bring' not| thy brief'| and help'|less hum'|an tears'| Across'| the fath'|omless mom'|ents of| a heart'| That knows'| its sin'|gle will'| and God's'| as one': | It can| embrace'| its host'|ile des'|tiny; | It sits'| apart'| with grief'| and fac'|ing death', | Affront'|ing ad'|verse fate'| armed' and| alone'. | In this| enorm'|ous world'| stand'ing| apart'| In the migh'|tiness |of her sil'|ent spir'|it's will' | In the pas'|sion of| her soul'| of sac'|rifice| Her lone'|ly strength'| faci'ng| the un'|iverse, | Affront'|ing fate'|, asks' not| man's' help'| nor god's': | Sometimes'| one' life'| is charged'| with earth's'| de'stiny, | It cries'| not for suc'|cour from| the time|-bound' powers'. | Alone'| she is eq'|ual to| her migh'|ty task'.

The poetry moves so smoothly and naturally that one just doesn’t think of its art, not even of its heart, the rasa, the essence, the joyous felicity is such an assuring gift that one knows that the “solar plexus” is fully satisfied, that something else has taken care of the expression, and of the beat and the metre, that it is the rhythm coming from the distant home of the truth, as the Veda would say, that has taken possession of the multidimensional reality even in the expression of the secular as much as of the esoteric. Strive no more to measure by the poetic technique the breadth, the dynamic flaming wideness of the inspiration, if we have adapt a line from above. ~ RYD