Meagre Offerings

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Meagre Offerings

Sonnet — A Collective Invocation to The Mother and The Master #1

Who inhabits this frame vacillating thus,
Hobnobbing with delinquents, ruminating with sages?
Wither the constancy, here is only a drifting
As on a canvas the many poises passing.

My hearth is robbed of its seeking fire,
My heart depleted of its splendid ardour,
My hymns have fallen off praying lips
Eyes turned from their sunward gaze.

Dim elemental powers have stolen my will
And yet dig deep for my impulsions still.
Only safe seems instinct of the body,
Perhaps they devour it too from memory!

But now I breathe a lay thought and gesture,
These meagre offerings I submit O Mother, O Sire.