Chiaroscuro

Fourth Sonnet from The Apotheosis of Solitude

When stark unflinching sun describes a sphere
One face is clothed in splendour, one in shade
On splendid visage; love and life are clear
But shrouded path of Peregrine’s waylaid
And racked with sighs perturbed with fickle hopes.
A whisp’ring dæmon ever at my side
who prompted me to write for thee my tropes
(those same iambic odes you can’t abide)
She said to shroud my shadowed face for shame
of being found unworthy in your light
And so I gave a made-up pilgrim’s name
To mask my name of Jason from your sight.
My fear is, through unthinking, I’m undone
Yet here I stand, unblinking, in the sun.