Sigils of Thee

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Sigils of Thee

Poem — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #41

Courtesy Lexica.art

A visage I saw in the drifting hours,
A faint smear triply laid on forehead,
Prone and wide to remind the senses
Of its ruler and deity, the Ash-Lord.

Another I gazed as the hours slipped,
Dark forehead with mark like a trident,
A red centre with white on each side,
Seal of Vishnu, dweller on highest height.

And I wondered, mark I have none,
No icon to mark my form, no seal subtle,
No sign to remind of my affinities to men,
No hint to suggest what words can’t spell.

Wait, my heart cried, what of the dye and stain
On fingers borne, and the worn out quill?
Though by Thee is undone all that is human,
I bear these for Thee as Thy sigil still.

Be as Thou art, too divine and too solemn,
I’ll fashion sigils of Thee in verses till am done.