As At Start

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As At Start

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #247

A hundred anchors are now cut asunder,
A great breath and a vast sky are companions,
Only Thy whim makes for my motion’s rudder,
Am now unmoored to every mortal purpose.

Far now retreat all the fond dear faces
On the shore of norms all human,
Brief were the seasons of my sojourns
And now to soul home I must return.

I pass through this realm of cusps
Where borders of earth and heaven meet,
The thinking animal for the God prepares,
Primed to exceed every time-born limit.

My all is now entirely Thine,
As at start Thou vouched to be mine.