Thy Henchmen
Poem — An Invocation To The Master #369
Published on May 31, 2022
Thy Henchmen
Poem — An Invocation To The Master #369
What subtlety could we ever for Thee produce,
We who wallow in this forsaken earthly mire?
What nobility could we ever for Thee infuse
Into this measly globe with dullard air?
What askesis can ever be in our reach
When we stumble on the early rungs?
What penance’s limit can we ever breach
When to merely be leaves us breathless?
Neither subtlety nor askesis ask of us
For these are forbid in this twilight below,
So too ask not nobility or penance
When subconscient afflicts our very marrow!
Yet like a savage beast by love enamoured
We bring Thee spoils ugly and brutal,
From subconscient mines the ills hundred,
Each coloured by a black glory infernal.
What the gods shun and men baulk at
Is the measure of our hourly tribute,
Our reach is but this dim fallen extent
Where all is mire and grime and ignorant.
We are Thy insufferable henchmen of the abyss,
We mirror Thy obverse face in the ignoble deeps.