Hard Won
Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #316
Published on April 3, 2022
Hard Won
Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #316
How dost Thou feel the passage of our centuries,
Our crowded canvas brushed with harried breath
Drawing from the palette of our blood and tears
Only a blot in Thy gaze lacking meaning or depth?
Dost Thou have other earths akin to heavens
Peopled by hearts and minds by flesh not bound,
Dost Thou then marvel at their brilliant deeds
Enacted by wills that know not difficulty’s ground?
Do they offer Thee worship poignantly scented,
Chisel for Thee monuments in sanctified heart,
Do they light Thee lamps by ardour fuelled
In company of a perennial dusk and a huddling fate?
Hard won from siege of moments is our veneration,
We offer Thee our bleeding roots in supplication.