Mother of the Ages
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Mother #21
Published on August 20, 2021
Mother of the Ages
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Mother #21
A stutter and lisp mar my speech,
My heart’s utterance Thee can’t reach,
Mind upon inconstant wheels turns
Axled to a wobble will’s device.
My hymns run devoid of lofty rhyme,
They move to a rhythm dull, unsublime.
I strive to fashion for Thee a song,
A plea for Thy presence to hastily bring.
I light for Thee a lamp in heart,
Precariously in world-winds it swayest,
I sustain it by an aspiration fuel
To bring from this untruth Thy real.
Thy healing breath to course these spaces
Is our prayer O Mother of the Ages.