A veil without a touch or weight
That grants yet a distinctive feel
Of rest and peace, as is its trait,
Befuddles sense to see the real
As but a facet of the gems
Of that which is or soon will be.
The train of thought that always stems
From this transcends Eternity
To see that which will never die,
Though shadows tear and demons reap.
The realization "Ah, 'tis I!"
Brings calm that hastens gentle sleep.
Despite the fear of lurking foe,
Phantasms bright begin their flow.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
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2 comments:
Again, fantastic imagery! You should write sonnets more often!
I fully intend to.
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