What Aid
Published on February 1, 2022
What Aid
Sonnet-An Invocation to the Master #265
From basalt I seem to claw for absent gain,
A harsh bloody endeavour without fruit,
To sow and plow without any refrain,
For only given is right to helplessly act.
Am exiled amidst this milling crowd,
A bubble of silence my prison cell
Where I dwell alone in solitude,
Chained down by an unbreakable spell.
Powers of will and thought are forfeit,
Aidless like driftwood on world’s waters
I move by whims of fate’s current,
Am as if abandoned by the gods.
Oh what aid is in aphorism or philosophy,
If by tangible hand Thou shall not rescue me?!