At the End of Everything

A Year of Sonnets — 051/365

Photo by Yeshi Kangrang on Unsplash

You breathe the light resplendent, holy fount
of healing, far beyond what we expect
the Lord above to loose on our account
— perhaps the Master finally has respect
for everything we gave the altar stones,
the harvest sacrificed, laid at the cross,
invoking Him. But we were left alone
to mourn the perfect innocence we lost
and all the rest besides. We sacrifice
and hope that Death restores the youth we sold
for pennies, peanuts, trusting God’s device
to spare us from the miseries untold
and ageless. Our defeat’s a certain doom
but unexpected light ablates the gloom.