Battling Iron

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Battling Iron

Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #271

Is this how Thou didst in Thy body gain
That unhuman sheen like living gold,
Was it only application of relentless pain 
That made thee appear a veritable god?

My prosaic rock is now lightly gleaming 
Like a pebble smooth tormented by waves,
My mind and body and life by battering
Have acquired now the hint of a gloss.

Methought Thy methods might be subtle
To mould for men a future all golden,
But now I learn that Thy method celestial
Is to have our lives integrally beaten!

I sought a tryst with Thee in Brindavan,
But Thou comest always in Thy battling iron!