In Thee

---

In Thee

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #242

What use to me cadence of silvery speech
Or the vain ornamentation of faux custom,
What use to me fine thoughts that teach
The nuances of every ephemeral form?

All constructions are in time proved frail,
Ideals and goals as the body and breath
Come and pass into the past’s journal,
So the soul immortal does baulk at death.

Even love’s ardour has a limited lease,
Its flame does mount to sky’s height
But comes soon to a breathless close,
As does all given to time’s remit.

But Thou who doth outmeasure all in silence,
In Thee I find meaning eternal and timeless.