Sonnet 1

I could compare it to an open flame,
Or rather to a still-as-crystal lake,
Perhaps, though, to a beast that can't be tamed,
Or to a slumber nearing its awake,
A flower petal falling to the ground,
A storm that rages through the open sea,
The scent of sights and touching of a sound,
A flood that fills and spills all over me;
And yet, despite comparisons to spare,
I cannot find a way to phrase it right;
A feeling that is common as it's rare,
A feeling that is dark as it is light.
To put such things to words just will not do,
For no such earthly way describes them true.