Proclamation

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Proclamation

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #13

What magic in the bag of being
A reward brings by every rummage,
Never empty of thought or feeling,
Brimming words from a little page!

What might lies in mind’s pen
That conjures a world sans words,
No sky nor star is beyond its ken,
Crowns thought with shining dreams!

Mind like a sceptre of the soul
Given to sage and pauper both,
To each by will their empire rule
In span betwixt birth and death.

Why soars my mind to this height
Upon wings of muse utterly wide!
Ah, my mind is enrobed by His light,
Of human vestitures am now devoid.

Sing O lips of this thy best fortune,
To be held captive in His light’s bound,
This the prize from many lives won,
To gaze upon Him, thy soul spellbound!

All pleas I retract to bosom of me,
Missives my untamed ardours issued.
All protestations only offered lovingly,
Oh, Thou and I must cease unequal feud.

Behold O world, by this proclamation be it known,
This my Master, and I forever to be His son.