The God Hour

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The God Hour

A Poem

Courtesy Priti Ghosh

Our heedless past is a preamble of the future to be.
A swift oppressive hour shatters limits we could not 
Moments that slaying knead the brute blind heart.
A brief whirlwind’s incalculable change
And the torrential surge rising from ocean’s womb
Is the fertile seed of God come to rapid change.
A lone pilgrim’s silent incantation can rouse, 
A sleeping god’s swift ire that sweeps 
The stubborn dross of ages in a single hour.
The hero’s bloodied brow and the crown unseen,
Are too His victorious march against the void.
A litany of truth sounds the endless abyss,
Scouting night for the dawn to come.
Even an unfulfilling hour that is god’s is not in vain.
For from His pristine mint are issued our acts
And the steady march of the hoof-beat of time.
The god hour can compel our recalcitrant selves,
The goad of Rudra upon the tardy and weak.
Shrink not from pain and the oppressing inert hour
Cast thy self and even thy last gasping will-
Thy final dice roll against the tremendous hand of God.
And by this fated gamble gain thy Master’s side.