Sonnet: Praying Helps

I don’t know the cunning ways of the world;
I’ve delved in honesty and labor hard;
I don’t know the winning ways of the bold;
I’ve shelved my sinful ways and turned a bard.

I talk with God so frequently these days;
He knows my heart, its pangs and needs too well!
What can I do? Mystery enshrouds His ways;
He does those things that cannot give me Hell.

I know this world is too much for my head;
But worrying is of no use all the time;
Yet, praying fervently helps me instead;
The grace of God can make one’s life sublime.

My patience gives its verdict every time,
And gives me themes for yet another rhyme.

6-21-2002 by Dr John Celes

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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