Within the darkest webs of hidden fear,
Bejewelled, unblinking octaves start to glow;
The thought of spindly forelegs looming near,
Can cause our buried angst to throb and grow.
To overcome the horrors we can’t name,
We must become exposed to what might be;
In dealing with this enervating shame,
We need to fight the urge we have to flee.
The cadence of our hearts can help repair,
Disparities that terror tries to cast;
By timing every pulse to our despair,
The speed of our revival is made fast.
Attuning to our body’s natural beat,
Can help to stop our impulse to retreat.
“Bejewelled, unblinking octaves start to glow.”
This is a Shakespearian Sonnet, inspired