sonnet: the well of life is love without fear

I wrote this poem a long time ago to a lover who was afraid to commit, eventually the relationship withered and we went our separate ways. But, a few minutes ago, I felt its presence, this work, sliding around inside me...so I reopen the box in which it is kept and what has been swept in and wept over is present to witness.

the well of life is love without fear

if tomorrow is forever then what memories will come today?
do we dare our dreams to demand from us our souls in lieu
of our flesh in storied rhythms that hide the knives we keep in play
while awaiting the judgement of our histories that have, anew,
answered the questions we will torment ourselves with in reticence
to judge ourselves guilty, fealty being tested as we bested
the beasts of our own intellects, driven to the precipice, stance
of a dancer, taking chances on knees that bend as requested
but groan at the totality of our conceit. feet slapping time
with the heartbeat held in hands that only see the blood, running fresh
to test the seal between our fingers as we linger over crime
committed for which we will not be acquitted in the failed flesh.
we are but shadow dancers in the failing light of love we hold
in hands too small to raise a needed drink to parched lips, sweet and cold.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

A reasonably well-crafted sonnet. Perhaps a little complex, grammatically, for the average reader, but I never said I wanted the underachievers on my planet. Just the gods and the goddesses, thank you very much.

Sleepy. Odd. I am caffeined up...so that means I need to dream. Damn. Was hoping to get out into the world tonight, maybe head to BAM, maybe down to Fairmont.

Just a brief nap...enough to sort things out. It is amazing how much my confidence has crashed in the last ten days.

Guess it is time to throw a party.