To thee, O Life

Many have resorted to thee— Those that to need of flesh may heed, And love to call it spiritual— Quiet that to crave of flesh feed. Yet, poor little neglected soul Stays mute though ever insatiate (The flesh whilst gets forever fed) In this life for a true soul mate. Comes then time when the flesh gets old, And nor in need nor in want is, Man aware of the need of soul Late on eve of life, of soul’s bliss. Just as a lamp tends to burn bright In last bursts of life’s utter blight. ________________________________ Sonnets |08.04.2024|life, love, flesh, soul