Altar Call — A Poem
I stand in the dark waves of ignorance,
No light of a lamp to guide me through chaos.
The winds raging furiously around me and over my head
Does not rest
But howls in anger at me — an Ignoramus.
I sigh and wait on the highway,
Sadness, joy, light, and dark hover ominously.
Scared stiff as a corpse within my shell,
Then, Urge comes, a distant traveler with a lamp
He sees me and stops, volunteers to help,
If I try on my own to walk… I stumble,
And learn to walk in strides,
Sure of my being.
He says, “Listen to the Altar Call.”
I listen intently for quite sometime
I hear not a sound,
Deafening silence seems to rip my tympanum,
Then from afar,
I hear soft notes of exquisite melody,
Approaching near.
I see a flaming chariot of metal so rare,
Never found on earth such a one,
I am awe struck.
By the beauty of the goddess
She casts her lovely eyes at me.
I watch fascinated like in a trance,
She full of warmth and smiles natural
Looks at me willing to be her disciple,
Asks me to board her chariot,
Urge boards alongside,
Then enters my being
He and I are now one entity.
I turn to her with longing eyes,
Plead, “Oh mother, grant me
The gift of Poesy,
An eternal spring that never dries.”
We reach the palace,
She smiles and fades
I look ahead
The gleam altar of marble white
Glistening with soft dewy drops of moonlight.
I walk in measured steps, lest I fall
Carefully to the altar
It seems to beckon me…
I take the cup
And dip in the flowing fount
And drink thirstily,
I am ready
For the start of a new journey
In creativity.
NOTES: Every creative person goes through a dry spell and is ecstatic when creativity strikes. This poem is about my dry spell, me searching for a way to be creative with writing poetry.
