The Votive
A song tells Legend, Battles, Heaven's Fires!
A mural makes a forest on a wall
A book holds lives, philosophy and I'll
find every truth upon a stage of liars.
From acorns grow the tow'ring Oaken glen
and petty fear gives grief that leads to War.
Does gossip poison in its weight? No, more!
Can babes grow Kings? Does lust make fools of men?
Each small beginning, like a votive quaint,
may burn to bonfire if the fuel be fair.
May these few words then tell thee what I bear
And be a beacon, not a candle faint.
If these few simple words and deeds speak grand
they let you know how worshiped is your hand.
---
(c) copyright 2008 by G.Robin Smith Everett WA.
Do not sell this ir re-print with out permission. Thank you.
Shakespearean Sonnet.
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2 comments:
And is it _my_ hand that thou dost worship still, my love? If so, why does not my name appear here in any form or dedication...? Was it that you did not want to put-off the interests of others? Did you truly feel it necessary to remove every inkling and 'inking' of me, your once and truest love...?
- Or so you said... more than once
CES
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