A baby sits on a giant cherry
While the depleted sun falls through a cloud.
We escape into life not knowing how
We got on and off the forgone ferry.
We’re next to nothing, an ignorant crowd,
Unmovable when we don’t start a row.
The unrecognizable in our minds,
A blurred landscape that writhes, twisting, and winds
Around ideas, resolves from nameless shapes
Into the wonderland of snakes and apes.
All’s not dust said old iron to its rust.
Shrill winds erase the nothing gust by gust.
But the baby will grow and see beyond
Terrors, his mind become a magic wand.
My book of the first 200 of these sonnets is now available for purchase. Click here:
