Better Stories

---

Better Stories

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #195

Who art thou roaming the mind skies 
Insubstantial like a vapoury outline?
Only a hint of light thy shape lines 
Like a shy chimera of heaven!

Who art thou escaping from breast
Like an ardour who found wings,
Or a melody swirling on body’s lute
Played upon by my Beloved’s lips.

Who art thou rising to the heights 
Released by cupped hands of earth,
Unfazed by veiling desires and fears,
A trumpet note of joy and mirth.

How does my desert bear new spring,
The slumbering moth to butterfly?
How are my veils one by one parting,
As if of my being they were newly shy?

Is it thus all Thy better stories are made,
A heaped up impossibility by victory topped?