Sonnet 45

Midst blackest hours of a hideous night
I here do sit and contemplate my fate,
For in such state there is no greater plight-
When gods and demons do collaborate.
But yet what mortal soul should beg such wrath
Or yet such fearsome council here convene?
What mighty sin yet calls me here to task?
What maxim could a humble life demean?
Perhaps I’m but a pawn in some great game
Of chance, the rules of which remain unknown,
And winning such, what could contenders gain
Were legions great the paltry to o’erthrow?
Yet what to ask when gods or worlds collide
Save for swift death; then bravely step aside.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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