Invocation, Part 1

There whirls a world about a star Gathering motes of dust from Far-A-Far Upon the shining silvered seas' bright skin That cloaks the place three-fourths within. Upon the multicolored shards of stone Reflecting from her fragile face Some billions of small beings wander And ask themselves if they alone Exist within the boundless dark And the very question seeks to sunder The restraints of heartless reason stark That advocates their ending without trace. She shines against the obsidian deep, Bestirs Infinity within its sleep; Has tried at times the patience of the formless Elohim And stirred the wings that whisper in the golden wind. So thus she calls attention, though having no intent To do so, down upon her gleaming self An invocation insincerely sent to a God or Gods unknown Who may arrive someday to collect the rent And tally up the Pros and Cons And gather up such seeds as sown Through the troubled course of her existence, then begone To distant parts, to pull new worlds down off the shelf. So she spins in silence 'round her star As billions wonder where the angels are; The incense rising everywhere Their hope a jewel in the Celestial Share.