Answer to Petrarch's sonnet 130
Soul, thou who know'st each thought before it's born,
And every tortuous road that gathers dust,
I gladly offer thee my dreams in trust -
Tomorrow I will celebrate, not mourn.
In meditation I let go thoughts worn,
As freedom grows, I feel no longer trussed.
Collected wounds can soften, lose their crust,
Thy presence is my rose, without a thorn.
I feel thy gentle touch upon my cheek,
removing all old sorrow from time past
as finally I find the peace I seek.
Tomorrow I might feel again harassed,
then I'll sit down and use mantra's technique
to join thy peaceful grace in prayer amassed.
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