New Birth

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New Birth

Sonnet

A march of seasons crosses the soul’s terrain,
A procession of climes not governed by the sun.
Desert noons of oppression weighs all to a halt,
A desperate thirst meets its own tears and sweat.

A season of tyrannical summer rules by heat-whip,
Disassembles being and remakes all to new shape.
The nights of winter arrive with their cold black,
Only silhouettes for company on this stage dark.

Autumn like a grim healer strips all dross
Only a bare frame does it barriers hardly cross.
Monsoon’s pitter patter begins to gently soothe
Then in lashes of rain fosters the hidden truth.

Haggard is my shell, worn out by each season,
A new birth is imminent, beyond all human reason.