Thy Ambit

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Thy Ambit

Sonnet

A press of Thy sun on this human brute
Has rendered my days into song divine,
And impress of Thy moon on stark night
Has ripened my thoughts into a heady wine.

My ocean is churned by Thy many moods,
Thy gold and silver lines every theme
That plots my passage through earth grooves,
All pathways now brim with Thy charm.

All wares that nature has peddled to me,
Pale desire, ambition brief are all incomplete,
I now stand immune to their crass sophistry,
Risen above senses and their petty orbit.

O Grandeur, O Thou sublime beyond the cosmic shore,
May we dwell in Thy ambit for now and evermore.