Ingot

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Ingot

A Sonnet

To and fro, back and forth
A steady rhythm does take birth.
A season of night, a season of day
Am lit up through by a single ray.

A downward curve of heaven’s assault
As a hunter pouncing on every fault.
An upward curve of love and submission
And a fire compels all members to unison.

My senses do forget their inborn trait
My body now thinks, mind can’t see straight!
My tongue remembers and eyes can savour
My self now blooms like no earthly flower.

Am now an ingot in God’s smithy
He fashions me anew with relentless pity.