All Of Me
Poem — An Invocation to The Master #82
Published on July 30, 2021
All Of Me
Poem — An Invocation to The Master #82
A harsh relentless summer hath parched me,
A greedy heat saps the last precious dew,
A stark barren expanse is all I can see,
No shade shelters me from this pitiless view.
A strange soil this harbouring no flower,
No hue bright of heaven-painted wings
To fly a parcel of beauty to eyes near,
All is an even grey of a dull duress.
O Artist, O Craftsman supreme,
Thy palette lacks me a single hue bright,
No lofty music’s note doth strum
To break this monopoly of silence mute.
Thou shunnest my lute, deny me Thy breath,
My harp-strings remain by Thee uncaressed,
Thy world-choir crosses gaily my path
Mocking my state by Thee conditioned.
Make not mine a vain enterprise,
For all of me bears Thy thought’s impress.