An Incarnate

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An Incarnate

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #221

What hast Thou done unto me,
What greatening change begins its unfolding?
How could one mortal breast throb so in empathy 
With all that is born and breathes and is?
I become all tongues and savour Thy reality 
And my mind grows into a sphere of oracles
Where are divined the portends of the ages.
Am ripened to a subtle sublime degree,
I feel a wider range of Thy exquisite notes.
I feel them all, the high and low in unison;
The cold panic in a motherly breast 
Watching its flesh and blood set sail on life’s waters,
The lover’s last corporeal kiss
And parting hands that never in a body shall meet;
The murderous shore slaying souls of hope bereft,
The priest of the froth and waves clamouring 
To wash the ocean floor with the blood of men;
I see the wraith of fate carving foreheads with the blade of woe;
I become child and parent and ancestor,
Am a front of the old interminable line,
In my life is fulfilled the dreams of worm and clod,
My visage fondly remembered in a far occult star,
By me seems empire and ruin and facade worn by time;
I am become every past forgotten and all the old yet lives in me,
The future waits for my hand’s sowing,
My deeds the grooves for sure destiny.
I am every man and woman and babe and beast,
I am the cadence of life
And the shining trope upon a glorious globe.
How dost Thou pour so much in me
And keepest for Thy share an infinite simplicity?
Oh burden me not with such glorious debt,
Leave me to linger by Thy blessed feet
And my soul shall savour its communion with Thee
In an union complete, integral and blest.
And then I shall have grown an image of Thee,
Auspicious and grand and luminous,
An incarnate of Thee, a diviner Man.