Invocation

Ceaseless strumming of a mindless guitar
I hear;
In an empty field
In a field of cornflowers.

“’Tis a far, far better thing that I do now,
Far better than any I have e’er done;
‘Tis a far far better rest that I go to,
Better than any rest I have e’er known.”

The three gods of humanity,
Me, Myself and I,
Rejoice,
In the painstaking enterprise we call life.

The cliffs rage under the ocean’s yoke,
The constant battering of the young tide’s frolic,
Lovelorn it stands up to mighty skies
Forever seeking the lover’s ship:
A ship lost in the watery void.

The gates to Eternity are barred
Aye, barred
By the chains of Pandemonium
Another Pandora’s box is born.

Those of free spirit roam,
Roam the lands in search,
Seeking the hidden truth.

Through obscure paths
They journey
To find the unfound
To seek the non-existent
To die in painful serenity
‘Neath the infinite horizon.

The rivulets flow, the moonlight glows,
The nightingale’s song is heard,
Heard, but wasted in foraging winds,
Winds which churn the sands of time.

I hear the incessant strumming again:
The cornflowers have awoken.