The sunrise is subdued in early morn|
Only pastel hues on passing cloud
Light the way, another day is born
We waken from our dreams and doff a shroud
Can sleep be other than a sort of death?
See how it mimics dying as we lay ~
Is not it quite the same, save for the breath
That vanishes from us upon that day?
Which dawn will be our last, we cannot tell
We go about our day oblivious
Hold onto the illusion, neath its spell
In hopes another will be promised us.
Our only consolation maybe this
Souls have the destiny of greater bliss
acrostic sonnet for the sfitb challenge
By moon spirit
© 2016 moon spirit
(All rights reserved)