Pristine
Published on April 14, 2019
Pristine
A Sonnet
Courtesy Priti Ghosh
Few are the companions with me still,
By their weak animations prod a dull thrill.
Dream and wakefulness, two sibling states,
That tag my being through existence’s gates.
My cherished mob are all gone, exist only
By imprints they left, like a ghost does quiver barely.
Memory, the bookkeeper of deeds is gone.
Imagination bereft of joy-sight is grounded and forlorn.
The heart of many layers has lost its spires,
Only retains the ground and subterranean spheres.
By dream the rumble of darker things,
And day continues the inconscient beginnings.
A moment’s despair clouds all being within.
Then I heard, “By these purgings shalt thou be made pristine”