We seek direction and the sky is vast
your words are braille and the constellations cut
our hemisphere in yours and mine to shut
the future out; but as the moon has cast
its dice and sliced a highway now at last
we seek the seed-pods of what’s lost. but
no longer cornered we can find the route
— to shaded dwellings; moving not too fast,
as we have left the dread of spreadsheet proofs
with wings still scorched we stay below the clouds
not seek the sun, we’ve changed, we have reformed
the lesson that we’ve learned — that roofs
and ceilings hide the cowardice of crowds
digesting the disasters of divorce.
This is my 7th entry in the sonnet crown, and since I wanted to make it a heroic crown, I have still 7 to go (with the 8th bonus one consisting of the first lines). Linked to Magpie tales since I thought the picture would fit.