If riches should elude me as I toil
And lovers flee though once they did me seek,
Should bold endeavors wilt in barren soil,
Or fools impale me on the ills they speak,
I could not even then give breath to rail
Against the Fates who measure, weave, and trim
The cloth of my corporeal travail;
My mind conceives its source beyond time’s rim.
The song I hear this moment charms my ear
The morsel served at present do I crave
My true friends here and now hold I most dear
And for what I have not will I not rave.
Poor sustenance will come of vain desire
Worse still should my heart perish in its fire.
-
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Real Teaching 
It is no small thing to compose a sonnet that flows lyrically in its measured iambs, which you’ve achieved here, not to mention the vital message of gratitude for life’s gifts, outweighing life’s tolls. Your verse, in itself, is a blessing.
I’m speechless, Fran. Thank you!
You’re rendered speechless by Fran’s comments. I’m rendered speechless by this writing. Thank you for this gift of language and message.
Vivian, thank you! So kind of you to express that!
I love how easy the lines flow from one idea to the next. They lead to aogical confusion but has a uniqueness in their formation that is captivating. Well done, sir!
Thanks! I’ve been on a sonnet kick lately. I enjoy putting them together; they can be like puzzles.