The waking’s spun with webs of urgent lure
And sleep is shriveled dreaming marred by fear.
The life allows the walker nothing sure
Or level path to others once held dear.
But many grasp at getting days with hope
And moments still and without vice and shame.
A little space to reassess and cope,
A quiet calm of mind, a gentle flame.
Yet many cast themselves aside and rot
And wave away this chance to reemerge
The winnowing is fine, the chances not,
For those who see themselves as lost and purged.
The way is narrow, dimly lit and rough
But offers vision clear and good enough.
Edward Ahern is a fiction writer and retired international trade executive living in Fairfield, Connecticut.
Really like the illustration you found. Thanks again. ed ahern
an interesting, strangely abstract sonnet
Thanks for the kind word. ewa
Beautifully written Mr. Ahern. It’s gives rise to the vision that there is always a way to better ourselves so long as the will is there. Too often we take the cleared and straightforward path to our own self destruction out of ease. Semper ad meliora.
Thanks Zachary,
What I think are my better poems were all written from a zone of personal discomfort, with strained emotional muscle.
Best,
Ed Ahern
I feel the same as you. It’s unfortunate, but there is always much more truth to pain, but don’t sell yourself too short in other emotional writings. It’d be a shame to feel as if you have to be hurt to write well.