Prerogative
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #150
Published on October 8, 2021
Prerogative
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #150
How many lives are in my single frame
Profuse like the years it dons,
How many births to this one name
Of fecund becomings like a womb is.
How many parts dost Thou to me assign
Like a marvellous actor strutting on stage,
How many moods dost Thou to me incline
Spanning sagely sorrow to the hero’s rage.
Now am grown to myself strange,
A puppet awaiting Thy hand’s manoeuvre,
Or a quill to ink Thy image
Into these hours that aimless wander.
Oh to use or discard is all by Thy will,
But to adore Thee yet my prerogative still!