Hope’s Doors

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Hope’s Doors

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #54

On a rickety rampart of a forgotten outpost
Marking a wasteland frontier of Thy purpose
With shield from unuse rusted and a blade mute
I scan the horizon for Thy summons.

Long it seems like half-remembered dream
When Thou didst dispatch me to guard
A parcel of meaning for a span of time
And here I am oath-bound to Thy word.

But Thine is an empire to run,
A hundred petitions must knock Thy door
From wailing moon and a lonely sun
And my protestations near not Thy ear.

Yet hope keeps open doors of my eyes
For Thou might meet me in Thy eternal rounds.