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Epiphany

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I walked in darkness. Many a lonely mile,
my eyes and footsteps stumbling and blind,
I sought a kindly light I could not find
in land or ocean, asking all the while
if lightless lives are taken in exchange
for light eternal; memories of sight
would whisper, even I shall see the light!

I never thought the light would look so strange.
Not in a temple, echoing and awed,
nor in a palace, glistening and grand,
nor in my home, nor any friendly land,
but distant, dirty, in a shed abroad,
I met a maiden bloody from a birth
and in her arms, the light of all the earth.

◄ Nine and sixty ways

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Comments

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Mon 17th Mar 2014 11:45

Those who can see/write non-sense usually have a great understanding of sense/sensitivity/sensibility. This is a lovely poem, and skilfully structured with much complexity of rhyme pattern. Which sonnet form does it follow, if any? Or do I have the wrong format entirely?

I love formal verse also. How could I not, if I profess to be a poet?

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Dave Bradley

Mon 6th Jan 2014 15:19

Very struck by this, Thomas. Thank you.

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