Acquiesce

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Acquiesce

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #25

Of all mine heresies from this I shrink,
With what worth it baffles me to think
That my sordid earth from father sky 
Could seek an answer for my cry.

Like all rainbow doth bend to a single hue
Or a blazing Sun embraces a tender dew,
So hath Thy infinity consented to my mortality,
By what worship could we ever repay Thee!

Through a meagre window of body and sense
Thou doth afford me this sliver of Thy breadths,
By a glimpse has swept me this warring storm,
All within the confines of a piddly room!

How many dichotomies wilt Thou yet nurse
To bend my soul that to Thee doth acquiesce!