Offices
Sonnet
Published on February 20, 2021
Offices
Sonnet
A worn-out satchel on a haggard frame,
A sheaf of half-filled scribbles and quill
Are all the possessions hung to my name,
I who confront this relentless puzzle.
The daily ritual with the faithful muse
Dispensing its steady lesson of inspiration,
Does slowly a changing light infuse
Imperceptibly changing my being’s station.
All my identities collapse to this gesture
Of patient self-giving and sustained opening
For Her light and force to impedeless enter
And by uncommon alchemy transform being.
The long soul-roads I have trod to earn
This station of scribe in offices of the Sun.