Parley

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Parley

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #141

Wherefore this encumbrance of a name
And a brief interlude of body separate,
Wither these cycles that are ever same
Of the soul from heaven lured to dust?

What more meaning exists in earth mines
That we must labour in subterranean dark,
The daily grind mirroring solar rounds
Of a mute earth vainly circling a lone spark!

Speak now and assuage my querying fever,
Ply not the feeble repartee inscrutable
Of remote purpose for the future to deliver,
My soul’s all ears in perpetual vigil.

Dispatch not Thy gods and titans to parley
For these doubts are only Thine to slay.