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Poem — An Invocation to The Master #42

Is this all the worth of rank villainy
I harboured for long years fostering
All the thoughts and deeds of infamy
That bubbled curdled within festering.

Didst Thou not see my dark breast
Making of its depths a vile cauldron,
There many an ill didst blight and infest
To pale the night in a rare caution.

My spire of ills were hardly topped,
Rich harvest I reaped by imagination,
Through the hours offences I heaped,
Yet now I stand by Thy illumination!

How hath Thou defanged my mind,
My much cherished cursed poison
Is now from life and thought removed,
What gain didst Thou see in my person?

But now I sit as a hermit with bowl
Of mind emptied for another glimpse
Of Thee, or a lover aching for thrill
Of the beloved’s fond precious face.

Am bereft of torments that constantly rage,
For Thee my life hath turned an empty page.