Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #73
I rummaged the passing hours to find
Some clue for the daily due I owed,
The debt borne by us the clay-born
For each new day brought by dawn.
With scattered mind and fainting gaze
I groped all thoughts in this maze,
But all was sullen, stark and barren
Under a reticent sun and tightlipped moon.
But a mistress of silence held firm reign,
No muse did sneak a defying whisper
And imagination was lifeless and frozen;
So on my oath did I helplessly dither.
Oh stride not extents of Thy cowering chamber,
Here is belated homage to assuage Thy anger!