Prototypes

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Prototypes

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #52

Courtesy Lexica.art

Come now then and partake Thy share
Of the snarling ill and seething woe,
Beside me and in me take for savour
Each dark fruit that by Thy will doth grow.

I’ll lend Thee my form and sense
To number the mars Thou hast sown,
My lease to Thee to feel time’s duress 
From the disdainful alms Thou hast thrown.

Deem us not antagonists who front
Thy hundred-rayed will with a nay,
For it is Thee who doth inevitably script
Our shadow parts in Thy dismal play.

Steel Thy recoils and gaze at us then,
Of all Thy splendorous works the prototypes forgotten.