What Hope
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #244
Published on January 11, 2022
What Hope
Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #244
Who is it that has entered my being’s night,
Whose the masked face that sabotages so,
Who scuttles my hopes to hopeless dust,
Whose the hand that mars all my cares?
I am robbed of myself leaving only silence,
My lips lie mute shorn of its lone song,
The heart to repay earth debt yet beats,
Mind in muse can’t even a murmur bring.
My fingers are divorced from day’s purpose,
The feet are bound by a futility’s chain,
The hours sneer in contempt as they pass,
My brows must bear this bitter crown.
What hope to the worlds that in ruins lie
When Thy sons are denied a kindly eye?!