Many Grammars

---

Many Grammars

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #231

How many grammars must I perforce learn?
Gait and tread and gesture of the physical,
An array of movements in sequence to turn
Marking the manner of man the mortal.

The vital seat of emotion and feeling,
That engine of ardour and possession 
Always by ego and desire turning,
Enabling all means of human relation.

The mind, ah the mind, the impostor
Bearing ideal and reason and dream 
Marring our daily lay composure
To make our plenty paltry seem.

Oh the tyranny of the three are upon me
Speaking in tongues I cannot yet fathom,
My life sits on this tripod of uncertainty 
Hoping for some overarching rhythm.

And last the soul, that bears affinity to Thee alone,
Speaks a dialect to all the three still unknown!