Thy prodigal son

Me, begging bowl, can’t pay my born-with debt, Let me in a lifelong debt to remain, What with thy bounties at my fated gate, Were I to give if at all what’ll ye gain? I opt to sing thence paeans of thy praise, A man in want, dunk in desires-drenched heart, A grateful toast in thanks is all I raise Till ye lighten up my life's loaded cart. Thy child, pray help me ever grateful stay, And amidst plenitude somewhat less blasé, By lures of life much less carried away, Be thou indulgent to my wanton ways, My destiny be to die dunk in debt— Thy prodigal son and no less ingrate. ______________________________________ Sonnet | 01.06.2008 | son, prayer