Hollow Proclamations
Sonnet- An Invocation to the Master #264
Published on January 31, 2022
Hollow Proclamations
Sonnet- An Invocation to the Master #264
Oh I tried through the blitz of hours
To the match the pace of rapid day,
But at wake I began so breathless
Trying to fathom this opaque way.
All ideals seem some notion strange,
Every discipline a quaint convention,
For semblance of life I do arrange
Some thought and apparent action.
Do my strained strivings even equal
The stout willed ant’s set purpose,
Tireless it moves assigned mud-ball,
And not a nerve my will heeds!
Hollow seem the old proclamations even to me,
How infantile and presumptuous they must be to Thee!