Battler Divine

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Battler Divine

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #179

What strange breath courses through now
Exhaling a little of myself in every turn,
I shed aspects like leaves a tree doth throw
As if ashamed its tattered robes to own.

I am a mountain that all foliage abhors
On its growing austere ascending height,
Only to the lowlands are human companies
Of pedestrian thought perforce kept.

My muse ventures below from strange skies 
Plunging to the whirl of hours human,
And my ears are flooded by the mortal cries,
My heart in sympathy joins them even.

O Battler Divine of the furies and fate,
My all being I submit for Thy action’s part.