Shirk Not Us

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Shirk Not Us

Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #61

Courtesy Lexica.art

Oh am baffled by the manner of Thy mercies
Arriving garbed like to some crude ceremony,
Ever in unfailing answer to our helpless pleas
Arrives dubious aid to amplify our misery!

What cold mirth is Thine in betraying our hope
Dispatching storms when we plead for peace,
Snatching the plank that we desperately grasp
When on verge of drowning in despair’s seas!

What joy is Thine to spring out of the hour
Surprising our lives with an unexpected sting,
Or mounted on a trail of days that deliver
New unwanted spells our ruin assuring.

Be Thou on azure above Beloved or God or Tyrant
But shirk not us seeking refuge by Thy feet.