Your whisper is in the burble of the spring stream.
You pass through the internodes like rays through a prism.
I have composed my lyrics. I would like to sing.
My morphemes are coarse. Could you give me your rhythm?
Aesthetics and passions amalgamate in me.
My soul finds solace in your consoling bosom.
Sentiments break within me, like waves of the sea.
Words move tunelessly. Could you give me your rhythm?
Mind and heart should be in tune, like a musical.
Compassion for creatures should be the sole dictum.
Shouldn't equilibrium be endless moral?
Castles of creeds crash. Could you give me your rhythm?
To begin and end each of my days with truism
Dear Mother Nature, could you give me your rhythm?
Categories:
internodes, life, nature,
Form: Sonnet