Some momentary morbidity:
Sonnet
on Isolation
This
hour am I remembered any more?
Am I
ash of a former vibrant flame?
Shall I
once more burn, shall I rise again
Or lie
forsaken on a cobbled floor?
Shall
the wood appear, see to my rise?
Or
coal, for a faster redemption?
For if
not to be, shall I be the one
That
weeps and sinks in some forgotten tides?
Manifested
woe, has befallen me,
Where
there once had been a flame bold and bright
That
burned with the dawn, and beaconed the night.
And
now, with the hour of sorrow's might
There
only shines the faintest, dwindling light,
Not the
gallant torch that it used to be.
© Cecil Field
 |
| Solitude - Frederic Lord Leighton |
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