Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Day 35, Sonnet 35

Too quickly does this world around me spin:

No longer can I keep myself upright.

The cyclone’s vortex rises from within

And makes of solid ground a dizzying height.

I cannot find a place to rest my head

For even with eyes closed I lose my breath.

This constant motion builds a rising dread

That makes me wish for sleep’s façade of death.

But I alone must choose to disembark

From hurt and envy’s quick carnival ride;

And I alone can bring light to this dark,

And let my inner truth be calmness’ guide.

Though twisted turns are in this widening gyre[1]

I do to stillness’ gentle peace aspire.



[1] William Butler Yeats, “The Second Coming,” (1920), line 1.

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