Sonnet- Xiv

The metamorphosis achiev'd its eve
And never is the blinded lover's eye
To trace the trails of love that might perceive,
An isolation state! To seek is nigh.
Death; unto brief affairs a distant sleep-
Of being lost, won't comprehend the tone?
So little is the chance to rise from deep;
As for the love of thee I cannot own.
Hence my departed verse to thee I quote
Perhaps thine ivory revives its glow?
The herald from mine heart is what I wrote
Thy glistening approach against the flow;

To feel the mutual embrace (conceal'd)
Appraisal to my will as thou reveal'd.

by Sherwin Ilagan

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