Story-Maker

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Story-Maker

A Sonnet

As in a dream rise a hundred forms
Mind quivers to these hidden storms.
I stand apart from their plaintive cries
One for pity or another for duty tries.

I move by norm and for progress choose
Every act for a hidden purpose use.
In this border hour we move by tradition
We act our story to a convention.

The little actor wearied by his masks
From the Stage-Lord a better part asks.
He pens new speech for a part of splendour
A role in a teeming play of Spirit’s wonder.

Cast us now, O Divine story-maker
A role in Thy play is what we are after!