sonnet
"On Choosing Dirt Over Bread"
When in the day I depart from my bed,
And the sun from the window calls to me,
I feel the hunger that i can not feed.
Aside from pain aloof to filling bread,
I neglect all. Yet, this I deem sacred.
Pondering all with no respect of creed,
I venture through my thoughts like fields of wheat.
Still they dry. And I never to be fed,
Concern mine with traps of mortal life.
I fall willingly in a simple spell,
and starve trying to ignore the strife
found from choosing a drop over a well.
Shall I take hold of and sharpen the knife
that cuts the ties to my heaven and hell?
- Nathaniel Puckett
When in the day I depart from my bed,
And the sun from the window calls to me,
I feel the hunger that i can not feed.
Aside from pain aloof to filling bread,
I neglect all. Yet, this I deem sacred.
Pondering all with no respect of creed,
I venture through my thoughts like fields of wheat.
Still they dry. And I never to be fed,
Concern mine with traps of mortal life.
I fall willingly in a simple spell,
and starve trying to ignore the strife
found from choosing a drop over a well.
Shall I take hold of and sharpen the knife
that cuts the ties to my heaven and hell?
- Nathaniel Puckett