Thy Doorstep
Published on December 5, 2023
Thy Doorstep
Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #99
Does it count the thoughts that rise and pass
As offering to Thee all enduring and immutable,
Trudging the sky of mind like amorphous blobs
From a clumsy brush splattering its art all dull.
What of flowers with soft bud and hued petals
That like young promise in clutch of dawns do end?
Dost Thy grace extend only to that fresh interval
When our years are vibrant and our heart uncold?
What of tears that sting with increased zeal
Over the passing years like a wine deepened,
Would these count for Thee as offering real,
A stout brew to sway Thy will unswerving, immortal?
All my becomings I leave in a growing heap
For Thee, my Sire, by Thy crowded doorstep.