WRIT, A KEATSIAN SONNET

“Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new love pine at them beyond tomorrow”.

Here’s to you who writ in water
heart within a heart, a life
within a death dreaming me awake,
Drifting through you seen the beauty
of deaths decay. I inscribe these words
that took me in the gentle hands
of humanity and placed me here
on this barnacled shore. I have been
awarded this devotion it was writ long ago.
Your words are taking me on this journey
my capacity for your air, a negative
capability. You surged through death
to grasp me in your hands of hope
giving me tomorrow