The World Within

I wrote this sonnet a little over a year ago. Though the temptation to edit its content is still with me, it's my favorite poem (perhaps because it was my first sonnet).


WE EMERGED on earth from eternal skies
Whose nursing root is our efficient cause,
Where the song of angelic whistle flies
And all its creation to God gives pause.

Yet we shun the thought of internal land-
Boastful and clinging to our thistled plots;
The refrains of heaven we cannot stand-
Content without Him in our wayward lots.

What is the world without heaven within,
Or Eden’s flowery patch void of scent?
Weep when you hear the serpent’s violin,
And weep when reprobates cannot repent.

But rejoice if your own feeble heart weeps,
Since it is awake, even though it sleeps.

-jwm