A Sonnet


After submerging order, light, the day—
A soldiery of doubt usurps hope’s place,
Soon nestled sly amid the pulsing gray
Nerve ends where soul meets sky.  In dark I trace
Each tender face I’ve cast aside through lies
And bitter rage disguised as honest love.
A shudder, chill regret: does grief make wise?
This empty desert the sagebrush scours rough
Cannot remain my home.  A woodland glen
Sways with wildflowers due north.  I travel slow
To slough my skin and walk, a man again.
I thread a path too old for me to know.
aaaThe heavens wheel about the north star’s light.
aaaI aim for there.  I tread the breeze all night.


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