It's too late now. There is no turning back.
I am no saint. But sinner's near the mark,
Counting my errors on this endless track,
Counting my failures in this endless dark.
The world is too much with us, someone said,
Nasty, brutish and short, it's been portrayed,
A daily grind to earn our daily bread,
A pitiable, heartless, sad parade.
Surely there's something more than grief and strife?
Some gleam of grace, some glimmer of shook foil,
Some chink of light, a glimpse of some bright life,
Before we shuffle off this mortal coil?
There's no success like failure. Through the hail
And rain I quest, the better for to fail.
Yes, there is some "gleam of grace." It's right here in this lovely sonnet.
ReplyDeleteI feel in this the story of the salesman. I like how this is a determined sonnet, the way a hike can be, continuing on through hail and rain. There is no use giving up, even if failures litter the path behind. Indeed, there is something far more beautiful about a life that has some failures, finding redemption, beauty, success in the daily living. I really like how you write your treks into your poems. Well, I've told you that before.
ReplyDeleteWorking my way down the alpha list, slowly, letting them sink in, and sing, one at a time.
Yes, there's no success like failure! I suppose.
ReplyDeleteI wasn't working down the list, but more letting my eye snag. 'Camino' caught me instantly. Excellent sonnet. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading, Roselle!
ReplyDeleteVery nice. enjoyed reading. Thank you .
ReplyDelete