Sonnet IV: I Know

My love will come to me from far away
So every minute closer to this day
Will pass me like an hour or a year
But God I count them down from tear to tear

And write my silly words I may not show
Where driven by my faithful car I go
And faster than the wind to him we skim
But God I wish that I could write like him

If you could see the lovely things he writes
Excites and then ignites and then delights
And if you read them then your tears would fall
But God I really get to read them all

I know it as I skim the cytochrome
He came across the stars to bring me home

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

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Into 1: To Atlas And…

To All The Weary:
He who waits. He who does not.
He who lifts the Earth.

Holds himself aloft.
Who reaches to the Heavens.
Godspeed either way.

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Sonnet XIII: Falling

Extraordinary blooms, ye mustn’t fall,
Although bereft of you I plaintive sing;
Complete, your gifted dedication all–

For nothing–your renunciation; bring…
To me, my restlessness, one restful gift,
Another consequential tear, one ring…

Of truthful blossoming, cascading swift,
Of falling and of blowing, gently brave;
Traversing mountains, even oceans, lift–

Beyond torrential, gentle blossoms gave;
Beyond such starfields, drop and bloom perfect;
Away… beyond temporal counting, save…
Our loneliness, do each to us affect;
As petal-drops, alone, our days reflect.

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

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