a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets”: №100
Ordinarily I don’t publish so much poetry at Theoria-press, and instead try to provide mostly essays with an odd poem or sonnet occasionally interspersed among them. But the Muse’s visits have outstripped my ability to keep pace with prose pieces so readers who prefer essays should peruse the archives of this site, which are replete with them. Also, I should acknowledge that the formal aspect of this “Petrarchan sonnet” is liberally conceived so it’s unnecessary to alert me that at “Petrarchan sonnet” with 18 lines and an unorthodox rhyme-scheme is like a quartet with 6 members, though reproof is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.
ARBITRARY power will exact its price
as sorcerers caught up in our own spells
the sap extract and leave only the shells
these magic arts that promise Paradise
to inmates turn us of our own device
our rivers poison and dry up our wells
the dark satanic mills drown out our bells
through profit promised without sacrifice
the Angel gestures with effulgent hand
my words take flight, I’ve nothing left to say
but in my heart they perch, I understand
the time has come for me to change my way
as I before his judgment naked stand
and Heaven’s trumpets sound triumphal bray
resounding anthems of new morning play
so let this spark within my soul be fanned
let its light these vices in me slay
and shine as herald of the coming day
Yes, As Above, So Below, As the Universe, So the Soul.
May bring healing balance into all realms
Blessings dear Poet, Philosopher on this All Hallows Eve.
Xox