DAWNING PERCUSSION ᨑ WEST ᨑ

Here— this tale, a gale, composed
my Muse; in rhythms of My soul—
from ewer, in swift foot, poured poems.
I tell of visions, of a Will beyond;
in ravishing verse, with tempo— fickle,
So bewitching, All rapture struck.

Oasis, a grove, my Muse’s abode,
in a desert vast, apron— a barrow
whence fire was lit-on, a spring spurts
from the primal force, a soulful song,
Space is a feminine kingdom stretched;
and I, a king uncontrolled, my soul’s influx
transpierced by a breath eternal.

Open—the heart enthralled, take
this melody and beats a flow— brisk
warlike; the roaring drums— in this tale,
the throbbing of my heart, a dour sorrow—
to which God! may counterpoise and bless.