Of Thee

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Of Thee

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #79

What vacillation hath possessed Thee,
Alternating my heart to unfeeling stone
Or ripening it to a fruit in season,
Always leaving me adrift on life’s sea.

Art Thou all storms and hurricanes unending,
Visits Thee no calm zephyr or soothing clime?
Always a grating and jarring rhyme
Rattles my mind and bone and nerve unblending.

What school of Gods Thee hath coached,
Or seated beside a Titan learnt discordant notes?
Oh who brings wild furies and reckless lightnings
To play with a soul in a fragile body embodied?

Hear me, O sole beloved Infinity,
Cast another earth and fashion another soul,
Conduct Thy experiments therein, full
Of whims and dreams, of reason free!

Keep for us Thy saving hand,
A kindly gaze for our blue smudge
Whirling silently by our sun’s edge,
And breathe for all a healing wind.

Be as it may, the ways of world and fate,
Of Thee in the endless cycles I shall not sate.