Summons

Come, Wanderer, from the wind-born blast

And tangled myriad of darkened dreams.

Come, Fugitive, from your storm-scarred past.

Come, Mariner, toward the blinding beams

And blessed albatross you thought you slew:

Come and fear not, though resurrection gleams,

Glows, beckons, and threatens to rip through

The paper-thin reality you made

And remade, and must be Made anew.

Come, Lone One, dare you not to be afraid,

Dare, one trial past, the next ordeal

Of fire, or is it yet to be delayed?

Though erring man as men must be, yet Real,

You are not, nor are meant to be alone;

And one is come to help, the Other, heal.

You are gone forth, one ray of thought: are grown

A Man in fields of stars, unknowing and unknown.

Come, Stranger, shine away your shell of stone.