Reluctant Hour

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Reluctant Hour

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #210

From the tail of a fading day I caught an hour,
Bid it pause and its doubtful aid did solicit,
“O thou who wanderest in this human sphere
Canst thou to mine aim grow complicit?”

The hour chimed, “oh I ply for no man,
An arrow am I from a transcendent bow
Into the mystery’s mist I must return,
I care not for thy wearied care-worn brow.”

I appealed, “Say not thus O uncaring hour,
Many of thy kin I have raised to the heights;
For common moments I ever did labour
To heighten them with passion and muse,

To thy lay kind I have made acquaintance 
With inspiration and greatness remote;
I seek of thee only a brief sojourn’s
Diversion, a mere pause on mystery’s gate.

Linger a moment on that verge and say,
‘Him I seek, the swallower of time,
Let Him heed this message I pray,
For one on earth is in events grim

And Thou must forthwith make his peace.
This the missive I vowed to deliver,
Now I shall drown in mystery’s abyss
And absolve myself from earth’s fever.’”

The hour replied, “O fool, am but a foot slave
Marching to the beat of His drum,
Ask not of me deeds too subtly above,
To ends and by means I can’t fathom!”

Denied by the reluctant hour I turned betrayed,
Gathered myself in mundane time and humbly prayed.