Ah Desire

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Ah Desire

Sonnet

Ah desire, goad of the human brute,
Fertile soil of the rooted ego,
How many ages to thee forego,
To unlearn savour of thy lesser fruit.

Ah desire, thou fervent rancid fever,
A passion-taint upon our works,
Thy black torch guiding our nights,
A veil and shadow our gaze to sunder.

Ah desire, purveyor of tinsel charm,
Peddling soiled wares to the blind,
Grey gravity upon the wingéd mind,
A lisping stutter upon the soul’s rhyme.

Flee, coarse tune, a new melody is mine,
I dance to its rhythms needing no chorus of thine!