Keep Me
Poem — An Invocation to The Master #143
Published on October 1, 2021
Keep Me
Poem — An Invocation to The Master #143
A thousand names can’t yet Thee address
Nor can we hold Thee as the unnameable,
A million shapes exhaust not all Thy forms
Yet Thou art too the formless inconceivable!
How many troops of ideals have fallen
To near the heights of Thy periphery,
How many flock of dreams have flown
In vain across vast imagination’s sky?
How many sciences pursue Thy subtle artifice
And left clutching only a measly utility?
The many philosophers, their subtle expositions
Thou makest appear as toddlers silly!
But to me, to me Thou art present in a single call;
My breath is a rapture, my veins are Thy harp,
My heart Thy closed chamber, mind resident hall,
And my soul then turns Thy bliss’s cup!
Oh make me not as emperor or hero or sages,
Only keep me for Thy hand penning the ages!