A Godhead

Sonnet

An unfinished painting, Oil on Canvas by The Mother

A Godhead on the prowl from slumber to morrow,
Awakening the dawn with a word drawn from God’s breath.
A Godhead on a trudge to pilgrim lands of light,
Slow-paced of feet but heart sure of delight beyond all sorrow.

He began hoofing like a gallant horse on the marge of Time,
No longer slow-paced, but hooves trimmed as he strode
Upon the mighty spheres of timeless wonders of the Spirit,
Which dreamt and lived and moved within him.

He paced forth, imperial in stride and movement,
Growing measureless in form and substance he embodied.
Time’s reflexes were too slow for his steed,
He measured the universe by becoming a barefoot of God.

He moves in us unshadowed by our ignorance and falsehood,
His presence brightens our day amid darkness and night.