The Writer, The Sailor
original sonnets
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The Writer
O strangest hand which under my name penned,
What I would give to comprehend thy heart.
For though I felt the motions of thy wend,
The motive feeding they, only in part.
O eerie eyes upon the page were fixed,
What I would film of thee to see within.
For though thy film supreme by mem'ry nixed,
A greater sight must lie somewhere therein.
O brain bizarre which calculates the cost
Of love that shapen be into a tome,
Through eyes to hand to paper firm embossed,
Ensuring faithfully soul to it's home:
What I would give to know greater than thee!
That drives it all in endless ecstasy.
The Sailor
When from the ecstasy of sleep emerged
Into the dark morass of densest world,
I rise into awareness humbly surged
Into the mission mine completely hurled.
When through the chaos of the world embarked
I navigate the eddies of the stream,
Along the way the boulders rightly harked
Did sink out of my sight as just a dream.
When pausing as the passing of the states
Do churn and froth to ravage mind and flesh,
I seek the well within which fully sates
and heals embroilment to soul refresh.
What wonder thou bestows along my life,
Through wake and sleeping both dissolving strife.
Written by
4/7/18
.
Photos by
Styxcornix
.1 — "Fragile world" [cropped]
2 — "At the dawn"
3 — "The yellow one"
4 — "Among petals"