SONNET 116
A faithful friend is an elixir of life
and those who fear the Lord will find him.
~ Sirach 6:16
Melancholy is nature compensating for
A loss un-mourned. My circumstances despotic
Listens their pungent streaks, cause to hang up my sword
And bow a last bow, itself, reached Teutonic;
Did trauma lack its own time that it should steal,
It moors heavy names and sighs retiring my seal.
How my hatred encompasses them and fals'fy
With kindness, bites of ants who amiss will lies
Devour the world, near them now 'tween my palace walls
These solemn friends a treas'ry, elixir of life,
Solemn as marriage without objection, withal
Silence to stripes ne'er love repute instinct of stripes --
Neutral 're the fly'ng birds who watched Antakya go,
In the season of bad poets, we bleed and throw.
