Sonnet III: Sublime

Express, shall I, what nature, perfect, is?
Thine every fibre, doth it answer me;
And giveth, every answer, what thou wilt;
But shalt thou, my reflection, never be.

So shall my sweet surround, make perfect bliss;
Thine answer’s twist doth make mine arms surround;
And maketh gather up, and without guilt,
Again, to make this circle thus abound.

I promise then, that wheresoever this,
Our passion, taketh thee beyond the world;
Thine answer, sweetest, never to be spilt,
No matter, gathered up, where art thou hurled.

Wherever then, I pledge, that dost thou sway;
So fast, mine hold, wilt not thou twist away.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:


8 responses to “Sonnet III: Sublime

    • I have made quite a study of instinct. Much of the above is guided by such result. And I am fortunate enough to be wedded to as winsome an angel as that for which one might wish.

      As I have written in my companion blog, these–this series–is the more difficult for that it plays closer to my heart–perhaps, my soul, one might go as far as to so claim.

      The male series I found much easier; because I am able to regard the male form–and perhaps even male sensuality–as simply a form of art. (And I shan’t go farther into “TMI country” than already I have gone, although perhaps, with the series itself, I have already done so!)

      In any case, I feel I need a bit of breath between members of the current series. So here one may not fine an addition every day. As such, one should expect to find other subjects interspersed. And, when the series is (at least to a great degree) complete, I shall reorient them on the site so they are presented adjacently and in their proper order.


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