The Forsaken

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The Forsaken

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #229

Must I lose at close of dusk all gains since dawn
All the toil to ascend the will by night is effaced,
From a death like interval of sleep to wake again
And renew my vows and labours as of old.

The nights regress me to a poise primordial
Bearing the worm’s sloth and the animal’s fear,
My dream self scans all the dead and unreal
As if to wrest some purpose buried in there.

Like a titan in his smithy I forge my becoming,
The blaze of fires and roaring heat in my ear,
The clash of anvil and hammer always ringing
In a relentless labour austere and severe.

Deem us not in the lists of the forsaken,
It’s for Thee our souls brave this dungeon.