Photo: Victoria Slotto
Transience
A Sestina—Iambic Tetrameter
How nature’s wonders haunt my daytime dreams,
ensnare my thoughts in utter timelessness.
They weave a web that captivates my soul,
a harsh reminder of life’s transience.
Our days are few, earth’s beauty delicate.
Creation holds the promise of demise.
A hawk swoops in, ensuring swift demise,
awakens morning from her sultry dreams.
soon feathers fly, then cries so delicate,
the world stands still, enwrapped in timelessness.
A fledgling dies—once more its transience,
a piecing wound emerging in my soul.
I look to nature to caress my soul,
to find an answer in the bird’s demise,
to understand this brutal transience,
her need to shatter hopes born of my dreams.
A full moon whispers silent timelessness,
like breezes sifting sand-thoughts, delicate.
A meadow boasting colors, delicate;
her flowers wave their greetings to my soul.
Year after year they speak of timelessness,
return to face, once more, a quick demise.
Within earth’s womb, do seedlings dare to dream,
accept their fate, their fragile transience?
All life is brief, a cruel transience,
the thread that holds me here, so delicate
almost as though I am, myself, a dream,
a mere illusion that contains a soul.
I can’t ignore my soon-to-be demise,
would I could float in blissful timelessness.
The truth imparts ecstatic timelessness,
enduring words that trump mere transience
and thus outweigh the harshness of demise,
imparting strength to spirits delicate.
Though understanding little of the soul,
I dare to touch eternity, to dream.
My nighttime dreams give way to timelessness,
delivering my soul from transience.
This beauty, delicate, knows no demise.
I am sharing an older poem for the Sestina Challenge at dVerse Poetry Forms. I hope to write one using homophones sometime this week. I will be away for a few days and will catch up reading your sestina next week.
Victoria C. Slotto, Author 