She

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She

A Poem

Courtesy Priti Ghosh

Coax not the fates or the flower’s blooming hour.
For He who arranged the march of the ages,
Is wiser than the flickering glimmer of mind.
Shun not too thy bosom from scarring lashes.

Receive equally the dealings of thy Master and Friend.
Above all, to all that resists apply that magic salvé
Of Her name, those treasured syllables imponderable,
That mystic key given to all that is manifest.

In speech and thought and feeling to fuse 
Her name, the potion secret of our alchemic change.
A living brazier be upon thy daily ways,
Shunning not the common and tawdry.

But all to see, consider and wield as She impels. 
To be a perfect and pliant tool so She may choose,
To use in a brief second of Her incalculable work,
The luminous close for which we toil in time.

A stress of worlds and powers bears upon earth
On her vast bosom of numerous contraries.
The many-mooded caprice of Her riot and laughter,
Lights our life and our chequered steps.

But deeper and higher another rules than She-
August and All-Seeing, She conducts herself in many forms.
Like a mother watching her brood chaperoned by hired eyes,
She sees all, invisible conducts all, impalpable directs all.

Our greatest conduct was because She roused us so,
Our base moments Her means to rouse us more.
Minuscule cauldrons are our packed lives,
A single pollen on a tiny flower on Her endless garden.

Our purpose and sole meaning is for Her distant glance.
And hope and aspire and toil for Her touch.
Her touch, that transmuting contact of a moment,
Which packs an aeon’s upward curve in a single nudge.

The patient toiling gods and vehement labouring demi-urges seek 
Her fulfilling time, to serve or oppose, each with a passion move to.
This, this is thy goal..too great this vast infinite,
So grow humble, obey Her silence and Her will.

In each small and great thing to Her word seek,
To serve and to worship and to adore Her alone.
For it is assured, the end, 
To those who have heard and followed Her call.