My Mission

By Jeffrey Subramanian

I once had striven like a little ghost

To sanctify the world; to cleanse from sin

My bloody generation – but I lost

Strength, weight, and sanity – my harrowed mind

Reacted in a frenzy to the task.

I was a shade, a specter in the rain;

A little candle in the vicious wind,

But still I kept on burning. The wax dripped

Down, way past the brass, onto the table.

Yet still I burn – though not from house to house,

But in my room, or on my kitchen table:

I write these sonnets from my little heart,

And revise them in the chambers of my mind.


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