Sonnet V

The wither of a rose in foggéd glass
Reflections of hidden swords and the heart
Of Kurtz thine eyes so modestly can cast.
The depth of solace I find in my art
Stands, my David, when Goli’th and he part.
My knight, symbols, strike out, inward and through!
Slay the Fallen, the cursed, the weak and start
The fire for the blind. Taketh me through
Oh, words.  Hand me the grave I holdeth to,
The divine comfort, all I to resist
In the shadow.  Fear, is the  crest renewed
The wall blank. Thy reflection missed.
The smallest crawler is seen with disgust,
Showeth thee, thyself true, and move thou must.

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