Our Fates

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Our Fates

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #183

How coarse is Thy breath as the wind,
Rude all Thy moods in the storm,
In Thy earth confounding errors found
And all Thou hast made leads to harm.

In rare flower or rainbow Thou doth score
Paltry merit insufficient to balance,
Not all happy giggles can ever restore
Thy reputation from Thy past ruinous.

Thy bright heavens a noon-time tale 
To ease cranky babes into sleep,
And the valorous lore of heroes all
Only tales to leash the ego in grip.

One undying good might yet retain
Thy name and salvage Thy legacy,
So does the sun its merit attain
When the night is followed by day.

Yet there is one most irredeemable error,
So all Thy attempts must be in vain,
For Thou made me on earth to appear
And now all Thy hope will forfeited remain.

To this it has come, our fates are now conjoined,
Blend then forthwith my mortal I to Thy godhood!