Sonnet XXXVI (Church Hill I)
The decent down Church Hill is lined with trees
With their limbs stretched up to heaven in praise
They form a cathedral roof with a maze
Of boughs intertwined to catch the disease
That falls from the firmament to appease
The lusts of earthly thirsting hearts ablaze
As though this balm of rain would aptly raze
This passion that would incinerate seas.
Yet do I love without reason or rhyme;
In fact, all stands against this fire to try
To extinguish it with tears and a sigh
Before all is engulfed in fueling time.
The road I tread is dark. Too dark to see.
Maybe I’m wrong and there’s no fire in me.
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