Yagña

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Yagña

Sonnet

Many are the rites of observances I hold
By strict grammars of speech and gesture,
All by the acute eye of will are beheld,
All enacted in the body my soul’s vesture.

The dusk giveth pause to this rite elaborate,
I must recount my remisses to retreating sun,
By night I review my members yet incomplete
To purge old fidelities and bind them to unison.

The bold occult Yagña resumes again at dawn,
I marshal all parts to theme of day’s sacrifice.
My lips are rapt in trance of litanies to summon
The Word of power that transforms in a trice.

Labour, labour O mortal beneath the silent star,
By such actions is thy beloved Sire made near.*

*Oh the prices we pay to faintly proximate a Seer,
Yet by our Sire we inch close to that sphere.