Monday, June 24, 2013

Summer Sonnet 37: My Troubles Here

The darkness that surrounds is a mere spot
in my iris that seems as big as sky.
Smaller than a fleck of dust in a lot,
cheaper than the cost of a seed of rye.

My troubles are as loud as an ant creep,
lower than a tower of mustard seeds,
a beetle's shallow grave is as deep,
quieter than a dead soldier's deeds.

What manifests out of this clot of land,
sequestered amidst an infinity?
My future escapes grasp like grains of sand
if I pollute my breath with empty pleas.

There is grandness in the smallest of sighs,
most gentle kisses and softest goodbyes.

- By Aurin Squire

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Beautifully humanly mirroring. Thank you.

Thank you, Morgan Jenness. Rest in Peace.

 "You need to meet Morgan!" At different times throughout my early NYC yrs ppl would say that to me: meet Morgan Jenness. She was ...