A scattered stretch of black; a piercing light
Oblivious and enrobed. Ere close within,
Orion lies, a lighthouse o'er the night
That bright illumes the low horizon. In
A legend trapped, he dreams; though blind, he bends
Towards the East to touch the curve that clings
T'her bridal firmament, and comprehends
Eternity: a constellation springs
Amid oases made of stars; a roar
Of lions, veiled and baleful; poisoned suns
Across a cosmic shrine. Forevermore,
Orion falls and falls; his fate outruns
His heart and dies at morn, his rapture strewn
Like tides before the passions of the Moon.
2 comments:
Thanksgiving broke my sonnet habit, and now I am trying to get it back. This has been in my head for days, and the original is long gone. I am uncertain about the closing lines too, but a sonnet is a sonnet, and this should get me going again. This should be awesome now that I am seventeen sonnets behind schedule, all told. Well, two sonnets every three days isn't awful, right?
Not at all, and once that becomes routine, mayhap a daily sonnet will begin to materialize.
Fascinating tribute to Orion, the one constellation I can usually pick out in a clear night's sky. It seems to have much significance, but I am unclear what exactly, presently. Mentioned by the Lord in Job, it is a marvelous curiosity.
This offers a romantic perspective and in that vein is beautiful and fascinating. Excellent imagery and thought-provoking topic.
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