To thee, O Life
Many have taken to thee—
Those that cater to need
And love to call it love—
That to crave of flesh feed.
And yet, poor little soul
Stay all insatiate
(The flesh whilst gets all fed)
O for a true soul mate.
Now when the flesh gets old,
In need nor in want is,
The soul sometimes gets blessed
On eve of life its bliss.
Just as a lamp burns bright
In last bursts of life’s blight.
________________________________
Sonnets |08.04.2024|life, love, flesh, soul
|