deepundergroundpoetry.com
Season's Crown
That humid light, a rose,
in movements slow and deep,
Adorned in songs it goes
to end that shadow, sleep.
And time will never weep
the passing season's loss,
Nor relish blessings reaped
in moments held
so close.
Our life
Is vanished moss
beneath this licking flame.
Yet every face we cross:
that shine of Self, the same.
There is nothing here called we,
Oh silent vibrant sea.
in movements slow and deep,
Adorned in songs it goes
to end that shadow, sleep.
And time will never weep
the passing season's loss,
Nor relish blessings reaped
in moments held
so close.
Our life
Is vanished moss
beneath this licking flame.
Yet every face we cross:
that shine of Self, the same.
There is nothing here called we,
Oh silent vibrant sea.
Published 15th Feb 2018
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This is a beautiful sonnet and I love the form. That final couplet captures both the immensity of the open sea, and yet unity.
To everything there is a season. . .a purpose under the heavens.
To everything there is a season. . .a purpose under the heavens.
