Experiments

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Experiments

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #16

Not mine any redeeming merit,
In gaping wounds my sole argument.
For each of Thy resplendent ray
I bear a cry Thou cannot sway.

Is my body Thy private garden,
My life a soil for seeds unbidden?
I prayed for the rose’s crimson bloom,
To make for fragrance a little room.

But Thou hath planted twisted creeper
That stifles my being to poise darker.
I am more than this engaged pittance,
Much in me awaits Thy deliverance.

But I grudge Thee not for Thy experiments
’Cause for Thee this birth and its implements.