sonnet: were that we all were

were that we were all as an highly polished mirror,
reflecting back the affections and cruelties of the world
and those who dwell in it. bright, shiny silver,
cursing the accursed and giving joy when it is hurled
into our lives by those who feel real love and peace
and want only to bare it and share it to magnify
the lambency into brisance, parting the curtains to release
our own best simulation of the glory from on High.
for what a world it would be then, no doubt. tears but
to express profound joy and inevitable, earnest grief
that must be at least a part of existence, being cut
from the mortal fabrics, but tears just for such relief
as is necessitated by the beautiful pain reflected
by our smooth surfaces, the light of joy, perfected.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.