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"I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements and an angelic sprite,
But black sin hath betray'd to endless night
My world's both parts, and oh both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write,
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it, if it must be drown'd no more.
But oh it must be burnt; alas the fire
Of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler; let their flames retire,
And burn me O Lord, with a fiery zeal..."

John Donne, The Holy Sonnets


running, dancing, tripping off the edge of the world
pointless to reach my hand out
the faces all smile and turn away
as floating weightless in this expanse
i grow to dread the coil of human decay
my tears are lighter than my thoughts, void of time
they do not listen, they only fall numb, i cannot see where

tired eyes strain in the darkness
reaching for something i know must be there
but the ballet of my imagination falters
for the ribbons are bloody, threadbare
toll of twirling beyond reality and trepidation

hum humm a song to keep my toes from sleeping
i still have far to go and so they will guide me
my heart is lost, untrustworthy, the antecedent
having failed again, if there is something more
then why can not I hear the music play

Pera, His Ballet