Sonnet 110

You mighty meddling morons let me be
Alone within pure thoughts that are my own,
Content to live within reality
Not some conniving vision from a throne.
You cannot will a falsity to truth,
Nor can you paint all blackness into white;
Purport all earth’s misgivings to subdue
And turn all mortal darkness into light.
What God decreed you know what’s best for man,
That you dictate the freedoms of the soul,
That you best know how one should think and when;
Each dictum but subversive overthrow.
The witless weak your evil lies enchain
But men of humble truth shall rise again.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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