I Shall Yield

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I Shall Yield

Sonnet

What happy pace has clutched my breast
As if drunk of a new moon’s pearly wine?
How it beats to rhythms of a tune sublime
Issuing from my body as a hollowed lute?

Where art Thou within, the mind or vital
Or the physical? Not thought or feeling
Betrays a sign of Thy secret dwelling,
Where then dwellest Thou I can’t tell.

Mine eyes are twin portals to gaze
Upon Thy wonder in puddle and stars;
Thou hast thrown ajar the occult doors
To roads of the transmuting ways.

I shall yield now gladly my little threshold,
For Thou art subtly impossibly magnificent!