Pride and Self-Entitlement
A Shakespearean Sonnet

Its fractured, couplet breaths silently mourn
The broken bell this light once more has rung
And we have marched ourselves all on our own
On wooden splints the leaves are halfway-hung.

Where does our corporal movement head from here?
My shoes are worn, but look, my hands are new
And you and I, His children, year by year
Have fallen short, our lovings few and few.

Come sunset, still the drawn out twain remains
No echoes, just the tilling, longing voice
And I, pressing the gravel down in shame
Am told to leave the line and sing, rejoice

For we have marched ourselves all on our own
The fractured, couplet breaths have been my own.