Mule of God

A Sonnet

A share of this burden I do bear
Like a mule, I don’t question or care.
My path runs through garden and grave
Head down, feet move to nudge He gave.

My hours plod in a dreamy rumination
A somnambulist drift to destination unknown.
I am weary of time’s burdening hour
Satiated is my being to a stupor.

Heat and toil, sand and clogging dust
Grate my being, but move by will I must.
The day’s labour in perspiration made
I rest my wearied being by a shade.

I am the Mule of God, this burden my treasure
A share of His labour my deepest pleasure.