In tribute to Anja Jaenicke, my good friend and source of divine impulse for this sonnet.
Does strife constrain me from thoughts of your mind? Does it impede my mind's-eye image of you? Even with my circumscribed point of view I know this,—that you're of most gracious kind. A poet and a mentor, you remind me of a lost faith in what's pure and true, ideals once held by me and by the few that all the innocents have left behind. So, Anja, I laud you as a brother with these well-chosen lines from this sonnet; please esteem them (as you would your mother) as if your very joy depends on it. A lodestar and guide, you have earned my love like the Bard whose muse came down from above.
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