Labyrinth
Sonnet
by
Happy Hiram
On
day one, the maze looks fresh and new,
when
we start at our circuitous meander,
the
first dead end, and we laugh
and
then, our next rebuff receives much more candor.
The
balmy dew of our perspicacity
leads
to no end of trouble
from
the height of the myth of our vast capacity
we
find we cannot set our dreams to right.
Selling
ourselves a new short
we
imbibe the false wine of hope and it flattens us
more
shattering, and we may not survive
but
wander the course, turned gelatinous.
Cul
de sacs wait!
To
live to see a bend that doesn't culminate another end.
2/28/2012
No comments:
Post a Comment