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, Ask themselves if they alone Exist within the boundless dark The very question seeks to sunder Restraints of heartless reason stark That advocate their ending without trace. She shines against obsidian deep, Bestirs Infinity within its sleep; Tried at times the patience of formless Elohim Stirred wings that whisper in the golden wind. So She calls attention, 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 To tally up the Pros and Cons Gather up such seeds as sown Through 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 those angels are; The incense rising everywhere Their hope a jewel in the Celestial Share.