Conquer This Too

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Conquer This Too

A Sonnet

What seest Thou in this meagre patch
Of all Infinity onto this Thou should latch!
Merit I have none, am exiled to every place
What despair could drive any to this space!

The hours oppress by their slow march
 A lightless heat all sap does parch.
 Only in shreds of a fickle memory
 Is any trace of my little story.
 
Perhaps Thou mistook my humble shire
As a sigil of some hidden empire?
O Sire, Lord dost Thou not know
Am vacant now, nothing to show!

All have fled, am now but a propped up shell
Come conquer this too, to none I shall tell.