Sonnet — An Invocation to The Mother #4
What apt gesture, what summoning hymn,
Must I employ for Thy arrival imperial?
What ardours rouse, What yagña within
Will reach the height of Thy feet ethereal?
O Mother, to our depths Thou must consign
A portion of Thy transmuting power,
Radiating Thy alchemy to this earth station
To dissolve this black resistance forever.
Stoop to our aid O sole Protectress,
For dim and gruesome is this siege
That suffocates our breath and thoughts,
And Thou alone can this battle wage.
This cobbled invocation of thought and word
I submit to Thee O Mother for Thy answer bold.