Take This Too

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Take This Too

Sonnet

How many spires I have overpassed in this long climb,
How many selves have withered and fallen helpless,
A solemn silence’s invasion has left my being all numb,
Only is alive a steady flame of aspiration that shines.

Inhospitable are the ethereal heights that weigh upon
The lone soul the burdens immense that lumber below,
Hanging on a slender wisp of truth a little reality known
Leaving the pondering immensities in the abyss’ hollow.

Wither the epic, wither the ode, wither melancholy tune, 
Here is but an ascetic silence and a harsh unpitying glare
Of an angry intolerant sun burning like a tyrant new born,
Commanding coldly all moistness of heart to disappear.

Here, take this too, the last secret spring of my human season,
Let it be known, even Thy harsh edicts I shall not abandon.