Toddler Soul

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Toddler Soul

Poem — An Invocation to the Master #306

What a pair we make, Thou the Master
And I the bumbling stumbling acolyte,
Was there a contrast ever more severe
Than ours to the alarmed human sight?!

Oh they must wonder, what business
Keeps Thee a king with a lowly pauper,
What needs a sun that eternally burns 
From this black spot like an ugly fester!

But Thou seest the heart of this speck,
Black and revulsive as it seems shaped,
From this low base Thou dost yet make
A flaming aspiration marvellous to behold.

My soul new-born is now schooled enough,
The vast librarium of this life I have perused
And have caught the world’s blatant bluff;
Am ready for what is in Thy silence untold.

Take me along for Thy walk through the ages,
My toddler soul besides Thee holding Thy fingers.