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.