Anomaly

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Anomaly

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #104

What events are these that lurk and prowl,
Baying for me from bush of circumstance,
Malevolent eyes and heart-curdling snarl
Announcing their imminent arrival dangerous.

My pleas forming like whirls in turbulence
Of life hurtling through night and day
Vanish swiftly making way for new grievance
That singes my being like fire on clay.

A perpetual storm is all the clime I know,
My ragged breath trails the baffled mind,
The feet are drained to a tread so slow,
The heart its salve of repose cannot find.

What anomaly ails this season of me
Thou O Ancient of Days must forthwith see.