Quest

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Quest

Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #337

My vigils were many and the lapses too,
Varied my labours in this unending quest
Where I scour worlds searching for you
But Thou art subtle and unfound remainest.

I catch Thy glimpse in glint of a ray,
A dappled shade paints Thy outline,
Yet from my grasp Thou doth stray
Like waves elude a passionate moon.

Like a bee I wander in this garden of life
Wondering, ‘Dost it host Thee this flower,
What bud-heart is with Thee rife,
Oh how many boughs must I yet scour?’

Tired of wandering I turn to my comb of rest
And leave to Thy will this impossible quest.