Of Hope (Sonnet)

As one walks upon these thou yellowed dusts
In search of thou desired recognized warmth
A warmth that cures thy poisoned blood in trust
And of a fiddle to sooth thy wound ears
For waters urge seeps through thee and thus foe
Whom now, a lost bedouin amongst these sands
Of perilous brittle pebles induced
Before thus bearing a'wearied prancers
As milky heavans vanish upon thee
And thus golden shine glows gloomy orange
Without a solemn life of shagged oak tree
Which vows a burdened cross to flee aloft
O'thee to vanquish, of thus teary roam
Only one, noted thoth, may trail thee home

12/30/12 ~ Erwin Jung