A Lamp

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A Lamp

Sonnet-An Invocation to the Master #264

The stain of soot on a lamp spent
Mirrors my grime earned in deeds,
The charred residue of a wick burnt 
A poignant portrait silently reveals.

This the little lamp I fuel for Thee
With the ardour my will can yield,
In its paltry flame I almost see
My soul-light slightly reflected.

Oh the irony of I offering a flame
To Thee who art the veritable sun,
A firefly glimmer lit in Thy name
Is all that in mortality can be done.

But a pinch more I offer than Thy priests,
My fidelity to Thee that persists through lives.