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Sonnet 1
I stand on past years, spent and piled high;
a towering mountain lifts me above
a teeming valley of lost friends and love,
to a bare plateau in a darkened sky.
Cracked-stone eyes focus on the mountain's rise
to a formless end, and rebuttal of
an unspoken promise to rise above;
deceived by the future's soft-whispered lies.
But casting down my broken eyes, I see;
a shimmering lake of stars far below,
that I mistook for reflection on glass
of skies above mountains and what will be,
is not affirmation of tomorrow,
but a reminder of all that I pass.
