Sonnet III

So, from where am I from? Why, this preamble of my life lost to the tribal wars of schemes and dreams, forever hidden in enmity and possibilities. Enigmatic, per se? why, yes – I state!

Here upon the hills of the north, facing twilight days, and burnt orange sunsets, my birth surprises me once more, as I recall the days I nearly died.

My mother gave birth to me, in and out of life and death, my poetry cried out in a desperate plea for a gifted sanity.

I survived…

And flourished, nurturing upon a hope relevant to the interior gaze of a hostage with nowhere to fly. A caged bird from a foreign exile.

A creative and historical context of change permeated by the inner voice of faith, and a Kabalistic Reality.

The trees undulating in the distance by a copious force of nature where mystery upon mystery penetrates to the core.

The paradigms, the metaphors, an exegetic theory based upon the ancient history of the humanity factor and its religious context. So, how many are there with only One monotheistic Value? Why, the prophets all spoke from One. The Immortal One.

To forget our labor pains of birth, leaving tomorrow behind, we see the ever present and fortuitous Now.

Let it be, for you have become rich in Glory.

Flame and fore, as lightning fingers to God, we implore your mighty Nature.

Published by John Gregory Evans

Poetry is truth as we share our words that express our stories. I have been writing poetry over twenty years and have been published within many venues, including two books of mine. As poets we speak our truths and become known by our words. If you are a poet...keep writing. There remains joy and love in the solace of the written word.

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