Dispel

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Dispel

Poem — An Invocation to The Mother #8

In this dream we often call life
Has entered a spectre black strife.
Mocking with fear our brightest thought,
A mindless agent science has wrought.
A strange force that by imagination thrives,
Leaping from mind to mind it lives.
Its idea central none have seized,
By net of mind it is not captured. 
Wombed by a malice’s test-tube,
It does every pursuit elude. 
Mutating like a thought travelling
Upon dumb lay lips gossiping. 
Lone it unleashes a dark spectacle,
Hosting black death’s new festival.
Its grim revelry shadows our sky,
Clouds our sun with its grim lie. 
Dispel O Mother this misery’s season,
Rescue these lives as yet only human.