The Ruse

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The Ruse

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #4

I found the ruse, the sleight of desire
Lurking in form, the unreachable face
That flits in moments that disappear,
Oh I have known Thy luring’s trace.

Cease this anguish, I have had its glut,
The fevers and passions imposed, 
Painting with tears the scene apparent
Whilst Thou art for us solely composed.

Taunt me no more with sighing game,
I have lost savour for the bitter peril
That have made my hours their home,
To this haggard game do not compel.

Script my part in Thy better moods,
I refuse this role that mutely broods.