Monday, July 9, 2012

sonnet one hundred sixty seven

woven from the unfurling
thread of light, basking in
golden reveries, aching underneath
the twilight, underneath

the chimes that ring in my
head, bearing only the sound
of your name and how
i am lulled to sleep by

the sheltering dusk and
how it hovers on statues
that hold no resemblance

to your stillness or peace,
begging, breaking, beginning,
a journey of the endless.

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