our peace (sonnet)
Nothing threatens our peace more than calm beginnings,
I rather wish you'd broken in upon
One in despair of loss or flush with winnings
Than this all-constant, happy-mediumed John.
I'm drawing syllables; do not aspire to have heard
What makes it balance, symmetries I shun,
Tending to move through each infinite word
Into a world beyond where all is one.
Down colonnades the abstract snowflakes whirled
Nor down to earth, nor daring to find ground,
And as next year's flag was fresh unfurled
I found myself down Cyprus most alone,
And when the heart, relaxing, full uncurled
To Truth, it only found love's work undone.
written September 1970
© John Close