Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Sonnet VI

The time that passes slowly now, today,
Tomorrow is irrevocably lost
Unless eternal Truth grasped on the way
Reach out and quench, of mercy, time’s great cost.
A raindrop falls, and nevermore the same
Falls from the self-same sky, or colored clouds—
As silver arrows showered once they came;
Another time with wind and thunder loud,
With stormy passion, flashing bolts of light,
They struck the shattered earth, as with a fist:
And once, a scarlet sun sank into night
Among the hills and swirling rainbow mist.
Each moment falls through these gray shadowlands
Uncaptured hope, save in the Master’s hands.

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