Poet's Prayer

We will not ask of lesser Gods the Word

Nor rend the breast when our Muse is fallen still,

The True is from an inner silence heard

And calm of mind and patient-seeking Will.

Of words we have enough, enough of thought,

The epic of the soul's advance is here

In battlefields surpassing knowledge fought

And realms the lonely vision of the Seer.

Yet shall we pray the heart-inspired prayer

To widen our embrace of life by love

And if the mantra reach our burdened air

Transcribe from rhythmed cadences above

The lines that soar beyond the reach of time

And join the singer to the Song sublime.