"Sonnets From a Conversation With a Friend IX "


You fool yourself so much i gape
In awe at the continued survival
Of your being. Such self serving drivel
Spews from those lips in bent effort to shape
A comfort pleasing to your limitless
Myopic views, tears and anguish deeply
Flow within. Yet i know this mind display
Grows not in your gray wrinkled sphere rootless.
The sentient race revolves around some
Vast constellation, a cogent cosmos
Constrained by physics pure beauty to course
Elliptic and mandatory. Till from
New thoughts grappled leaps new sight and release.
How many journeys needed for this peace?