Her Command

Poem — An Invocation to The Mother #14

Oh to be summoned awake by such a dawn,
From the folds of night’s relapse released
Only to hear Her command for an errand,
“Prepare thyself for fruit of long preparation.”

“Wither O Mother”, asked I, “the field of work,
On what distant foreign shore the struggle
Or where unleash pent up force in battle
Or which grey ideals must I perforce strike?”

Said She, “Not in battle, nor in precise thought,
Not by thy petty action is this deed done.
This aim assigned when thou had begun
Labouring long ages until this life thy last.”

“Command O Mother”, said I, “to the low abyss
Or ethereal countries to tangle the god or titan,
With Thy name on my being will labour certain
Through storms and cliffs and ending precipice.”

Admonished She, “Oh fret not for mighty deeds,
To all battles My force is sure dispatched,
This task only by humility is accomplished,
Shed thy strutting and all thy dramatics.”

I fell silent and beseeched Her aid,
“I know not, I know not O Mother how it is
Done, I but live and act by the given poise,
Oh purify my being, on me Thy light do shed.”

Said She, “Run now to the sanctum,
The chamber sacred where sits all glory,
By its portal halt in an utter humility
For thy Lord and Master to summon.

His word thou shalt hear in thy heart,
Head stooped down thou may enter
That blessed hall, all alchemy’s chamber,
And approach pedestal of His golden seat.

Thy Lord from eternal labour reposes
A moment, thou must of aches relieve His feet,
By this thy soul’s curve shall be complete.
And before thy last drop into Him goes,

Thou mayest glimpse Thy Lord’s face,
It’s He besides whom space and time crouch,
In Him do all glory and wonders perch,
He the seed and sun of the human race.”

All these actions done by Her force of gold,
Of what transpired in human tongue can’t be told.

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Her Command