Vestige

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Vestige

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #217

A hundred oracle-tongues are in me
By the strange muses possessed
Uttering cryptic divining prophecy
In symbols none can comprehend.

My soul in heart’s cavern is trapped
Like a bird of heaven in a measly cage,
Its poignant song I have verily heard
Voicing in light each its celestial urge.

In my dull amalgam of clay and mind 
An emigré of light has made entrance,
Into thought-sinews is infused his gold,
My dream-themes are all of transcendence.

Now all that remains is the body’s vestige,
Until it too turns one with His rainbow bridge.