Sunday Sonnet!

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Would that the powers of redeeming Grace
Disarm the haunting denizens of doubt,
Intent on mien of Goodness to displace,
That tentacles of harmful thought may sprout;
Would that the ambience of pax sublime
Subsume disabling spectres of despair,
Then shall be born a healing paradigm,
The fall-out of trust, broken, to repair.
Sweet Patience in soft, reassuring tone,
Apprised, fret not if time should tarry long,
We never stand entirely alone,
Persistence urges always to be strong.
Hope sallies forth its confidence to tell,
That manner of all matters shall be well.

©Meanderings 2018

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