My heart’s Wayfarer
Poem — An Invocation to The Master #59
My heart’s Wayfarer art Thou,
In whose movement I glide into Thy bliss:
Thy stride majestic, Thy gait a meteor-dance,
In whose steed measured all infinity and how!
This rapture of Thee new and mightily pulsating,
A little more than a throb and a quiver it is!
This kiss of Thy roseate lips
Enraptures my frame to Thy rapturous sting.
Thou comest to me at this strange hour,
When all Gods in the welkin are asleep,
As if a luminous morn self-veiled at the cusp
Of things twixt a marvel and a disaster.
Wherefore of my soul’s journey
In this seemingly unending drama of night?
Wherefore of this dolorous weight,
This brute Inconscient’s pusillanimity?
Thou sayest to me in Thy unmingled tongue
To seek in this demented breast of Night
The amber of Thy gold nestled
In the crypt of a mind puzzling.
Whose mind is it? A dream of a forlorn god?
Heavens not enough, earth too must change?
Why at all this half-existent mirage,
This scepter’d and leaden Night?
O Thou retortest merry of Thy light,
“Seek within the half-meanings of things
Their full meaning, in sadness and in remorse
My happy mirth and my high delight.
Happy indeed are those that see,
Still more happy are those that change,
But whose hearts are my sole refuge
Arrive unfailingly to My vast ecstasy.
But there are a few still that secretly shine,
Souls stripped of their immortal sense
walking thru bales of fire and Hell’s winepress,
To build upon Death’s fields Spirit’s deathless heaven.
This world is not unrendered of meaning,
Nor destined to doom or perish;
In Thine own half-truths My all-truth is,
In Thine own heart My unheard song.”
I say to Thee, “O my Wayfarer, O my Wayfarer,
Now is Thy glorious hour!”