Sonnet 19

If only you could draw in every night
like stars drew beauty on the vicious sky
your glance in shapeless thoughts and say “delight,
I grew in pain with eyes beneath your eye”.

Then throw your sorrow from your soul to mine,
but never try to stare beyond a blade,
and give me hope when quivers must combine
all pity corners where I’m just a shade.

If only I could read in heart and mind
the best solution to an endless breeze,
I would reveal the secrets of mankind
through my perception of its pure disease.

My peace, your peace and our peace remain
with love in life when life is now in vain.

poem by Ionuț Popa (30 September 2008)
Submitted by Ionuț Popa
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