Sonnets VII & VIII

VII.

I, it seems, eschew the vain and merry,
and I left the house alone as ever.
There was nothing I could wish to carry.
I need nothing more for my endeavor.

In the darkness, I had no companion
but Orion. He was coldly shining,
shedding light into the deepest canyon.
Death was near. I stood there, fearing, pining.

If I go or stay--it doesn't matter.
No one would be injured by the scandal.
Vain attempts to flee the mindless chatter
have no meaning. I can hardly handle

all the knowledge massed in one conclusion:
worthless are both friendship and exclusion.


VIII.

And now I have begun to dream of him.
I cannot flee my own subconscious wiles,
so it is not my fault, my wish or whim,
if now I know the bliss of gentle smiles.

I've been so good! I guard my hapless mind
with steel and granite: firm, unyielding. Still,
at night, I make myself fall deaf and blind
to force his voice and image from my will.

Should love lead me to hope or to despair?
Righteous men exist! And love is real!
I bask within his warmth, his health, his care.
Unto his mercy I might still appeal.

A word might change my heart's ill-timed incline--
yet Fate decreed he never shall be mine.