Poem — An Invocation To The Master #356
From the day’s hours I do gather
Meaning like a bee does honey,
For this measly drop I do labour
Hour upon hour relentlessly.
Doth my soul distil my deeds
And bring Thee a residue fine,
My acts be unto the cosmos
A minuscule motif of Thy plan?
I know not if am not or even if I am,
For all is only as a figment of Thy dream.