For Thy Will

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For Thy Will

Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #263

A slow welter of melancholies sweeps,
The tongue lies mute and inarticulate,
The feet weighed by immense reluctance,
An inability makes being supplicate.

A tamas as at birth of the world,
Dull, immense and unheeding
Wraps my being with its hold
Leaving my life suffocating.

The mind totters on ability’s cliff,
The will is but a faint shadow,
Of the body less said is enough,
These I bear for Thee somehow.

A million lamps must light Thy temple,
But know mine stays lit only for Thy will.