Thine Own

---

Thine Own

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #159

I am left as a blinded bard upon the world 
The staff of will that props me was once 
Thy hand that through Vrindavan had led
But now I wander this black expanse.

I once could gaze upon Thee by mere eye,
Need had I none for mind’s severe askesis,
Now in vain I climb thought’s empty sky
And Thou dost sternly elude even my muses.

The web of my songs I cast everywhere 
Hoping to catch Thy heart by my melody,
But to my cry Thou art deafened in ear
Like I who sing ceaseless for Thee blindly.

Bar not my soul that hath become Thy songbird
For in it is Thine own rapture for Thee to be heard!