Invocation to a Spirit

Structure, Semblance, Garnet

sonnet.  Idyllic

Gamete of form.

The Mediation of mind

Machination of time

Crystal as solid as anyone other.

In the turning  of these spheres

In the turning of Saturn

Music of your spheres

Chrysalis, crystallus

You are a pattern

Perfect since the

Dawn of time

Telescoping,

Never  before caught

In the mind of

Any distant astronomer.

What epicycle do you trace away from us

Quintessence, obstruction. Dark second

Moon of time. Beautiful and still sublime

What epicycle did you take, when

You hint your essence at me

In the echo of lakes. Galileo am I

What secret music are you tuning

In feathers of the Cosmic Swan?

In nebuli you hide. And the

The dawn-annihilated eyes

In which I sigh and watch.

There are feathers also

Your fire burns,

The hybrid of the Phoenix

And the Lyrebird.

You are

Forged in  distant

meridians of light

Cosmic fire, what distance do

You ford from us? What is

This loneliness upon all

The earth.

Stilted in drops of dew

I heard the cosmos's refrain

I felt your secret as a child

And would feel you

In the petrichor

Crescent birth-

The quiet chord of earth.

Even the earth's hardest

Core- must in some way,

Have been in tune with

You

You are the

Mystery  of the life-giving

Rain of earth, announcing

Itself in your resolute

Dawn-banners

You must have been grass,

You must have been all

Jupiter, you must have

Been voice that spoke

The first Vedas, quicksilver

Demeter,  how quick

You slip and fade.

My sedate wit, did

Not encompass the

Fall.

Reverberative.

And I am afraid

I have fallen apart;

Since this.

Why do you return?

To me you were

Pools of

Dying Ichor

I thought I watched you

Sprawled dying.  In the death

Of every minnow, in every minute.

Raving I thought I watched

Each minuet of your life

Pattern patent Finish.

Why you do you return again?

What heart could there be,

To dart in grace of, then to mend?

What gravity did you claim

That space you bend?

Your mystery

Existing in magnetic

Compasses.

Vernal, diurnal

Eternal

Yes- Liquid Autumn of my childhood

How quickly, I watched  it slip

Through the cracks.

Magellan could not

Circumference it: flowing Quicksilver -

How can I encompass it?

Secret finder of paths

In timeworn compasses.

Roar of your Auroras in icicles

These starborn boreal castle

Steppes, my soul races

Through with every circular

Step

And now you return,

Secret saccade of the

Flakes of your silent

Flame turn galaxies

To brilliant burning

Bushes