09 Oct 2015 – Sonnet
Some call it love the way the elements cohere,
as if some guiding hand had graced them in their birth,
an angel dancing as each pin point light emerged
new born from the Void, self-proclaiming being’s worth.
And so we dance according to an ancient tune,
and though we claim we’re ignorant, the beat goes on.
Our ears don’t seem to hear, our feet most surely do,
as nature does and steps to this immortal song.
Look closely as the screen reveals the smallest trace
of things we hide at home from passing strangers’ view:
the ending of a love, decaying parts that race,
returning to the Void from whence they first came new.
These are mysteries of death, and birth, and life,
and what a fragile mystery: a man, a wife!