A small light through the curtains finds us here.
A time locked out of time by our intent;
Beside our bouts with vanity, and fear,
And energetic dealings – some misspent —
We stop within the cycle of the par
To reach, express, console, condole, allow –
The things that never were, but always are;
The ever-present “then” that’s never “now” —
It’s strange: the words we think but hesitate
To say, as though they make us, somehow, less;
The secret weddings we officiate,
The burning longings we will not confess —
Except, my love, in moments, just like these:
When love puts all our wastrel thoughts at ease
Incredible.
Very nicely written indeed. Good thoughts well expressed. I like it. I’m not used to enjoying poetry in traditional forms, but you’re making them work for you in a more modern manner.
Thank you.
By coincidence, I was planning on starting a sonnet cycle this morning. I like seeing what variations are possible within the limits of the form.