a praise sonnet: vanity

[allstarme717]

left here upon a bed of vain design
on thorns and nails sewn into cotton sheets
reality has somehow slipped the mind
despite what's real, to fight all that is seen
surrounded by such light, to then feel You
and feel the fear just somehow melt away
voraciously to hunger for what's truth
eternally to be saved from decay
material will only fade and rust
entitlement is digging in the dust

-MDR, 2009