twelve Petrarchan sonnets (1)

“the cosmic march began in wonder”

OUT of the starless, uncreated night
the cosmic march began in wonder
accompanied peals of thunder
and skipping scintillae of violet light
forever in this fire I find my plight!
now Fortune weaves my feelings, over under
like Lethe’s shroud, my lover’s soul to sunder
from my own. But dark gives ever birth to light
and Fate now spins us twain in subtle strands
with filaments high-forged in yonder Sun
and golden tendrils interlace our hands
the stars’ eternity is but a small one
a voice, an echo, to one who understands.