Solitude Invictus

Third Sonnet from The Apotheosis of Solitude

When honest, simple pilgrim’s verses sent
With solitary-marshal answers met
The binars double orbit’s newly bent
Into a strained and sour tȇte-à-tȇte.
The string of Venus strains within your song
Let not the shrill venereal one win.
Your view of me ~ considered ~ still is wrong
It turns your lush legato to a din.
You think your pilgrim deigns to lay a trap?
Such thoughts from you he deems to be unkind
When all his thought and effort sought to map
The subtle architecture of your mind.
Yet still; though from the vantage point of Mars:
Yours is the sun which dims the other stars.