I Have Borne

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I Have Borne

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #151

Ah, it pains me, to be a living scar unto Thee,
Upon Thy blazing sun-face the single spot
When the creative spurt in time gone awry,
A reminder to the Timeless of mortal rot.

How do I issue unfailingly every night afresh
Eluding all the bright scourings of the day?
My being upon the white moon doth brush
A persistent mar with a grim hued grey!

Am I rhythm that in an ode midway breaks,
The one discordant note in a wide harmony?
Am I the one retreat of Thy innumerable wars,
The persistent doubt clouding all revelry?

Am I Thy broken wing of haphazard flight
Or a wingéd memory that halfway halts?
Am I all hooded bosoms darkly wrought,
Or flower deceptively hued sans fragrance?

I indulge in this dungeon’s formidable game,
All I have borne here I have borne in Thy name.