Day 1

Holy Sonnet XVII

Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravished,
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
A holy thristy dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine:
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
Lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out.

- John Donne

- - -

You Know

The sound of ocean
__What ocean
Is warm red
Darkness like light
And shoreless murmured words
From another room
Is where
__A depth that walls
(What walls) Can’t keep out but
In has no word for
Out anyway until she
__Emerges
Everything here is
Present and speechless
As ocean
When ocean
Forgets

- tony