What have I in me yet to realize
Of my innate potentialities
To let incipient sapience grow wise
And manifest its possibilities?
It’s only by attending to my soul
As I do now in circumspect repose
That I may fuse my fragments in one whole
That will my true identity disclose
By proving me a Maker of repute,
Not merely a mundane verse-crafting hack,
But capable of poetry astute
And sonorous, a Muse-inspired knack.
A sonnet’s more than just a pretty room
And may at best one’s very soul illume.