Sonnet- God Helps Me

Who blows thy hearth and keeps the fire on?
Who racks thy brain and goads out poems new?
Who inspires thy heart and soul each morn?
Who trims thy wings and paints a newer hue?

Who takes thy flight up higher in the sky?
Who gives thy pen a golden nib to write?
Who makes thy poems immortal, not die?
Who gives thee intuition and rare foresight?

This world of men has sensitised me first;
Their hurt, their hurdles- harken my mind's-eye;
Denied of justice, heart is filled with thirst;
My solace comes from Almighty who's nigh?
And so I soar up higher all the while;
No one can ever dare my work defile.

by Dr. A.Celestine Raj Manohar M.D.,

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