Tuesday, April 24, 2012

sonnet eighty nine

fearful that the world
will soon discover what
i have been trying
to keep to myself -

the certainty of your gaze
and the mystery of your
thoughts, the lines of your
darkness and all

that which we trace
to exalt your imperfection,
afraid it might come

to a point i would be
reduced to a being that
kneels before your altar.

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