Thee And I
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #117
Published on September 3, 2021
Thee And I
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #117
Through cacophony of the world I slog,
The forest of doubt I steadily hew,
Wade through despair’s endless bog,
My hope has grown wearied in sinew.
Night’s crickets mock me with glee,
Their coarse laughter spreads like fire,
No agreeable hour grants me free
Passage away from these events dire.
Only my muse’s chamber remains yet
To dally with Thy high lofty notes
Wafting through silence by Thy lute,
An unshared marvel solely ours.
Though Thee and I the world doth shun
We shall endure until Thy end is won.