Ransom

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Ransom

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #2

I bore Thee the first-born thought of the day 
From the mind that endured passage of night,
So must the following hours be I did pray
But the hours proved hardy and adamant.

Poised on a strange precipice I hover
Twixt lucidity and an unknown drowse,
Wither this oscillation I can’t decipher
That sways scaffold of my human poise.

Lead me through this crossroad confounding
Where meet all the bypaths of tamas,
Transmute all incapacities here breeding
Into an expression of Thy undying strengths.

Ink for me a victory integral and true,
In lieu I’ll ransom for Thee daily a poem or two!