Dear Soul

Poem — An Invocation to The Master #161

Why art Thou most unfair in my affair,
Not a single clause remains intact
Of terms sworn on the soul austere,
Vacillating always to my heart’s trust?

Combat thought with thought said I,
Ideal and ideal their gleams measure,
But a mote of silence is in mind’s eye
And my thought is frozen in despair!

Our ardours to meet and boldly wrestle
And fond arms grip and suffocate to joy,
But now Thou art as a sullen muscle,
Leaving me to ponder, “Oh why?!”

All mine exertions are cornered to naught,
My moods all depleted to insolvency,
I am a pauper to all feeling and thought
For Thou hast defeated me without mercy!

Most unfair the means of Thy fight,
Why must mere words defeat me thus
Fording the defences of my deep moat,
Slaying my heart with a mere address,

When Thou didst call me by the words,
“Dear soul”, leaving me with no retort!
Thou hast slain me by love sans remorse
And my battles in time are all forgot!

The ages shall remember the story of me,
Of how I earned glory defeated by Thee!