Poet's Aspiration

Let now a higher poetry descend

As befits the dawning of a golden age,

An opening on greater worlds attend

In golden verse upon a crystal page.

To pen from some diviner depth within

A truth distilled to essence, spare and pure,

Make harmony of line and image kin

And rhythm of its pulse-beat strong and sure.

Eternal fount of all-creative might

Slake my thirst for the sole inevitable word

Open to me the speech that is born of light,

Attune me to the Voice yet rarely heard.

O Cosmic Poet guide these halting hands

To be an instrument of Thy commands.