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#17
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Sonnets If I decided to destroy my life,
eviscerate my conscience, tear apart
the star-crossed pathways firing day by day
at every burgeoned sentence, each new start,
I could not even trigger-pull a gun,
load up each chamber, pull that safety switch
before I reconciled my thoughts and facts
to each disgruntled impulse, would-be twitch.
But as I say this, knowing it untrue,
so cognizant of how this thing would be
were I to boldly strike out on this path,
I know the truth, were I to think this through;
in every action of such moment made,
the mind encompassed not all things that fade.
