A Crown Of Sonnetts

(Dedicated to she whom only adoration is worthy.)

As,
if this life should be called my own,
if a man is but on an anvil, turned,
to true, to temper, to trust as the stone
beneath the loving father’s step has earned
the burdens of present and of future,
if the life of a man and of his god
are meant to find more than Earthly measure
and to know faithful is not faith facade,
As wise as some and less than many who
have ancients tolled to seek the knowledge
of men who in their best moments are true
to the glint of sun on the razor’s edge,
As I come to you, I could only speak
of the love we are put on Earth to seek.

Of the love we are put on this Earth to seek,
of the time we are given and life learned,
I find in these moments of life critique
so often the seconds before me spurned
to relive or yearn for consolation.
From the time that lives only in my mind,
immortal dreams or mortal condemnation,
not solace, purpose or myself defined.
Yet, my life has turned around each moment,
as a pyre twists into the night’s sky,
from the consummation comes the torment
in the immortal slips the mortal lie.
Now, this moment, in each going forward
you are my heaven, the greatest reward.

You are my heaven,the greatest reward
that lives beyond the grasp of mortality,
the holy vision that compels me toward
that dream, unfettered by reality,
you will supplant, transcend, illuminate:
The house of my soul most perfect with you.
You are the peace in my soul, the joy it creates,
the power that has propelled me through.
It is the truest evidence of fate
that you would have become this in my mind.
That you are this, should I not contemplate,
that from the mortal could spring the divine?
I should not need to tell you this is true,
what of your making is not known to you?

What of your making is not known to you?
Though through a child’s eyes of wonder and love
I have only that given to return, true
to sight and grace, life and thought above
the lost moment of idle or misspent
time not in praise of you. To Beauty
would I turn your eyes as I have lent
my back to the kneeling that stand and see?
Yet, this is from you and not this alone
but faith, truth, courage, time and word
that could stand as foundations made from stone
that would sing as angels have not been heard.
That in my darkness, you were there, stirred
the soul of me, for you, for the world.

The soul of me, for you, for the world;
What else have I to give, what have I gained
from my life that is mine unless unfurled
to the storm of time, then battered and strained
against the tether of attachment? Test
becomes testament beyond the power
of words to convey, that which is the best
of me remains, is only, at that hour.
Though we are each only, unite alone,
and save as we are; that soul as is born
I have borne back to you, not to atone
for being, seeing, feeling that is shown
from my time, to atone for all the time
that you were within me, but not yet mine.

That you were within me, but not yet mine
to touch as all the world is before my
senses in its glory, is to define
you to the world beyond the eye
can see alone. That you are so fully
before me, around me, that all is true,
speaks the hushed whisper of divinity.
The Divine touches back when I touch you.
All falls still. In my vision, creation
most perfect: I know in your caress
that, given both knowledge and sensation,
I do not love you blindly, nor need less
than full measure. My love will not deny
that on your mercy my soul must rely.

That on your mercy my soul must rely,
That my life in this world is bound by more
than the passing of stars across the sky,
That moments are a truer time than shore
can grant to the tide, waves are soley bid
to sand to bring the seas strength to tire;
That loss, not joy, not love, to just be rid,
is the numb ocean’s relentless desire,
That I know mercy is your soul for me,
That who would serve his god will serve his love
and a fool would see them differently
but fools are not loved on Earth or above.
In my life have these truths been shown
as if this life should be called my own.

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