Victory’s Spoils
Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #295
Published on March 13, 2022
Victory’s Spoils
Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #295
Does it befit Thee this all too human jealousy,
Banishing from my person every cord mortal,
Hoarding all my adorations solely for Thee,
Coveting my thoughts and feelings all!
Must I not keep for myself a human reserve,
A little coin to pay passage through mortality?
Or the last remaining semblance preserve
Of my membership in lists of humanity?
Must Thou remake everything in Thy own image,
Remoulding all our selves to a celestial bareness,
Planting muse in brain, a silver maned visage,
The manner of gait and Thy words on our lips?
Now but remains the residue of form and name,
Claim these too, a victory’s spoils for Thy home.