None Can

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None Can

Poem — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #39

Oh I have despaired at Thy building spree,
The many hells Thou hast planted in dream and reverie,
My wake Thou hast pursued like a hungry beast
Hunting and slaying my hopes to the last.

On my mind is the sword of Thy reality 
Snapping their thought-sinews, their vitality,
On my heart is Thy trampling feet
Snuffing my ardour to inglorious dust.

Like tattered sails are my striving limbs
Now rendered ineffective to every purpose,
My traitorous soul doth yet mutely sleep
In heaven high or in some abyss deep.

And now that Thou hast ruined me
From thought to toe entirely,
Showest Thou thy charming face
In the brief breach of an hour’s grace?

My heart can now craft not incense 
Nor can conjure a prayer my lips,
No worship can my limbs now issue
Nor my mind muse a hymn all true.

Throw then an aspiration’s shadow on me,
A last morsel to my famished mortality.
Or wear my skin and my human face 
And utter words to break Thy own reluctance.

I yet see written on night’s starry brow
That none can salvage me but Thou.