Tussle Not
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #157
Published on October 16, 2021
Tussle Not
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #157
How many miles are in a single heart
That separates every proximate feeling,
How much distances do keep all apart,
Each in their little prison ever dwelling!
If Thy infinity doth reside in every speck
Then whereof this my lonely enterprise,
The vigil of eyes that awaits dawn-break
Through the long night always duplicitous.
How many puzzles wilt Thou erect for me,
Pitting Thy omniscience against my soul,
Keeping all knowledge leaving only infamy
For my allotted portion from blessed whole.
Oh tussle not with my soul O Incomparable,
What quarrel with me from Thee inseparable!