Sonnet XXXVII: Hallways filled with Gods

©July 12th 2022, Olan L. Smith

Yes sculptures, hallways filled with gods who guide

      This world, while poets' quills will blaze the trail,

          Ajay. Our poems bright as words abide,

            Our wanton destruction of hands that fail,

For lack of valor's truss we write in rhymes,

      While the larcenous roots will clutch our leg

           And pull us down into the fire of times,

            Our olden days are gone, in haste we beg

       Forgiveness for lack of want or knowledge,

         And foolishness will reign upon its knob.

           But still the clutch in time does say our pledge

            The gods their wickedness will live and rob,

Until, the end our faith is so entwined

With heaven's hell, our fates are thus designed.

Dedicated to Ajay-Kumar