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Sunday, December 26, 2021

Red Balloon (Paul Klee), Sonnet #596














We used to talk of divine afflatus,

Now no more— dubious inspiration

Led us to the corruption of desire,

Turning each individual to Us —

A collective of alienation

Satisfied with cold ashes and out fire.

I will instead take to my red balloon

And, rising above all that troubles me,

Seeking what only I call destiny

In the apposite hours, late and soon.

The cold wind, hidden sun, and burning gas,

Earth turning to images as I pass,

Undoes the fears and tremors my being

Held too dear, as seeking loves believing.




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