Spared Nothing

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Spared Nothing

Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #343

My mind is forfeit of deliberate thought,
Ends I can’t conceive or the means pursue,
The will is mute leaving me distraught,
My mind is scrubbed like a page brand new.

My heart is felled and its passions tamed,
The wild-steed senses romp no more
The untamed pastures of the palpable world,
It throbs but with an inarticulate murmur.

My life is bound in an inescapable siege,
A master Will has raised formidable offence,
No hue, no joy can this chasm bridge
And thus I must watch the passing days.

Take too my soul to be solely Thine,
For Thou hast spared nothing that is mine.