Cascade

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Cascade

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #134

Oh what breeze is this transpiring like faint hope,
Lingering like unexpected dew on a summer morn
On the keen precipice of a emerald leaf’s lip,
Here in this deplorable abyss of all life shorn.

Who art Thou, O wooer without compare,
From where learnt Thy art of luring us,
Like winds to a sailor only even more dear
Or a rapturous wine offered to Bacchus!

Is it Thou in the Promethean urge to fire,
Thy love of truth in Cassandra’s pleas
In defense of kin as Hector’s rising ire,
Or in blood-sandalled glorious Achilles?!

How dost Thou leap from the dullest hour
Into a storm of visions and possibilities?
Dost Thou know the earthy method slow,
On what speedy goad Thy swiftness impels?

Oh passion-fury, oh stormy-beauty,
Cascade Thy rapture-torments into me!