Depths of Everlasting Springs
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
[This sonnet was written on St. Valentine’s Day, 2017, and finished the next day.]
Love, life, and death—these seem the deepest things
Unless we think of dreams. Mirages in
The mind have depths. Hallucination rings
With white hot bells, the purest white of sins
We want the most. Illusions that we grasp
Inside our blood are witchcraft spells we hold
As moons are tight. We clench them like the asp
Of Cleopatra. Clasping life sixfold
And loving sevenfold, a man presumes
That dreams are not as deep as what his core
Encloses in its multi-mirror rooms
