In defence of the profane - III
Sacred, irreverent friends be by far:
Monks mystify in pregnant platitude,
Sufi fakirs-- nigh tipsy bards as are,
Do flirt with God. Profane is never prude.
Perhaps, to tease is profoundly to love,
Nor things sacred may always solemn be
That raise love to regions so rare above,
In trust, friends and childhood chums curse freely.
Profane to me then seems pitfall not flaw,
But verbal hug of communion in creed,
A book that can a wide readership draw,
Be it a sage in rage or sane indeed,
The clarity that comes in letters four,
Sane words four hundred strong can’t bring to fore.
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Sonnet (tongue-in-cheek) | 19.12.2025 | friends, God, love, profane, sage, words
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