Sonnet Twenty-six: the Empty Box
Number-plea denied—should I have known?—silly human yearnings for what is unassured—
A steward overreaching—hustling his master—humbling to his knees—musing on his betters—
Faithful must a steward be—entrusted—sacred secrets—serving worthy master—
Never dropping what his master hands him—held until passed on—forward or back-taken—
If the box received be empty—waiting the steward waits for the jewel of the master—novel—
A wait not unpleasant—reminiscent of the sword in stone—and the public notice posted—
Strengthened by the gifts of fellow stewards—the passing down of secrets through the chain—
Box held in wait of the jewel sparkling on a cushion to be seen.
As fades the day—doubts flit about—bats a-flight in the steward’s mind—
Doubts that sense the dark—doubts that forsake the way of others—yet find their own—
And the darkness naysays death—it betrays a swarm of life—promising another day—
So the steward sleeps in trust—the comfort—wisdom of the master—the owner of quotidian.
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