The Boon
Published on December 8, 2023
The Boon
Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #102
What is mine here to freely give
For all was issued by a will unknown,
Breath and body and senses five
Wrought by a seeking urge unseen.
Nature in me doth diligently strive
To anchor purpose to every dawn,
At night she chides me in brief reprieve,
“All aims in thee become undone!”
Effaced are all the beliefs naive
And learnt gestures are all gone,
Yet I am like a quandary alive,
My each breath a burning question.
O grant me Thy light, the boon of purpose,
Redeem me from this desolate enterprise!