All that glisters in not gold.
– Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice
Why dress myself in shadow, shade and haze
as the sun glimmers through a broken sky?
Why hold the moon aloft on tongue for days,
just for a taste of swollen nights gone by?
Well, if you know me well, you’ll see in full
the way a tree can whisper secrets fine;
that birds are wise, and ocean has her pull,
but it’s the stars that pierce the skin, divine.
You keep your silver, and your gold’s gone cold.
I’ll slide a sliver of this inky stone
under my feet and dance these bitters bold.
I’ll take my chances, brave my dark way home.
And when the morning casts her silent spell,
I’ll find the music here, within myself.
We’re writing sonnets over at NaPoWriMo today. Wanna play?