Sonnet I

A spark, a gem in daylight's waning sky,

Soon joined by brethren, also set afire.

Their silver, slivered king sits ever nigh.

Of diamonds high, poets will never tire.

Across the dark, a single flame ignites;

Extinguished with but a whisper of doubt.

Dreamers and lovers pray more to take flight;

Angel transgressed from the heavens, no doubt.

If aspirations be met with such ends, 

What hope for us sinners embroiled in life?

Good deeds, good will; what weapons will defend

Against a tenuous eternal strife?

If the spark of one's soul is put to rest,

Quite surely our fate is at God's behest.