a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan sonnets: №115
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. This is more-or-less an actual Petrarchan sonnet so it will not be preceded by my usual exculpatory disclaimer about having departed from the paradigmatic form.
I AM the breeze that wafts in summer air
the wave that glints upon the sea at night
catching as in a glass the Moon’s clear light
I am the rain that falls on flowers fair
the azure distance into which you stare
a planet wandering in starry heights
that traces out our interweaving plights
your breath pronouncing words of prayer
so to enunciate my one true name
I depart, I am ever-returning
forever changing I remain the same
into new forms I am forever turning
in fires of time, I am that dancing flame
therefore seek for me amidst the burning
