Thy Purpose
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #208
Published on December 6, 2021
Thy Purpose
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #208
What method is Thine inching towards the ledge
To peek from edge into the abyss’ deeps,
What uncircumventable firm impulsions
Are blended into these circumstance’s range?
The will within balks and falters at every start
Like some life primal that hesitated to be,
A vague indeterminate that hoped to see
But with a groping blindness must wrest.
Have I not had the fill of Thy contraries,
Must my cup be filled with bitter brew?
Oh but I only sought Thy measures true,
And in return am granted inane leases.
Leave me not to the incoherent ways,
Lend Thy purpose to my forlorn days.