Sonnet for the Man

I bask in the glory of this summer’s day Dimmer than the eyes behold of mine Once upon the yearnings turned your way Never once concocted a sign My faith within you becomes a faint whisper Your truths reveal yourself, onto me Tradition-like, a lonely vesper Haunted by your endless peril, never free Continuing down the rabbit’s hole Spiraling towards you every now and then Mother talks of self control Haunted again by those called men