Sonnet 395

Now there is nothing left in life for me,
All sweetness gone, no, nothing but dry pith;
And rare the nectar where tight grip does see
Blanched knuckles and strained ruddiness of face.
I gave my all, yea pushed it to the edge,
Proud legacy replete with battles won,
‘Gainst rising rancor so did build a hedge
And lay in siege of better days to come;
But no detente, and surely no retreat,
There dark discord did lay that gauntlet down —
Better here sweet death than sour defeat,
At least scoured field with bitter blood be sown.
So mighty titans did in combat rage:
No win; no loss; destruction but their gauge.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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