Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #62

Courtesy Lexica.art

What trait of mind is it that gathers
Around a sandgrain sign a calamity,
Like an oyster of thought assiduous
Weaving from nothing a woe deadly.

Here be evidence says observing mind
And heart shrinks from what’s yet not,
Like some superstition that doth portend
From vague patterns a disaster imminent.

A strange addiction is it of earthly mind
Drawn perhaps from inconscient ancestry
That deems itself inevitably doomed
And forfeits for a sign its quiet serenity.

Teach our earthly triple, O Master, teach us,
Order and disorder is appearance, for Thy will only is.