Beauty

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Beauty

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #7

Who art Thou ambling in effortless splendour
Along golden coasts radiantly shining?
Seeding in a million stars Thy ardour,
Reposing on a bed of space for Thy dreaming.

What miracle gives wings to Thy flying thought
That as butterfly hovers like a dream
Upon silky black canvas of sleeping night,
Teasing softly its tired eyelids with a gleam?

Oh how careless art Thou with beauty’s hoard,
Spilling everywhere precious perfection’s wine
Intoxicating every bird and bee on time’s road,
Even a mote minute bears Thy seal sublime.

Oh assail me not with too much beauty,
My poor heart stands forfeit of its serenity.