This looks like an amazing lament @d-pend.
The pictures tell the story but not as well as the words. There is a delicate balance in each of the lines. The rhyming patterns and use of old English are intentional. You put yourself in each character of this poem, but I would guess you mostly identify with the poor sonnet writer.
The writer wants to be filled with light and joy but the world is under a curse. He is forced to bury what he once loved and yet will not let her go. He sees a deeper magic and hopes she will wake up from her slumber.
This fantastic sonnet of lament brings me to the dregs of death and then lifts me up together with the writer in a struggle of soul to find a "more eternally timeless spell." The implications this poem leaves me are endless.
Although the summer dies there is a deeper magic that awakens the life of spring. As we move on from one phase of our life to another it seems like a world is dying inside. The same moment we mourn the ashes of what we loved so much we know inside there is a new life growing in those flames.
Interesting, how @hlezama emphasized the "poor-but-happy" nature of the scene, and you the lamentary. (Apparently not a word, but I never let that stop me.) It is an interesting time coming out of summer, one filled with mixed feelings and a sudden wash of memories from bygone times. In any case, it has been a fixation of mine to explore the paradoxical nature of our reality (when seen from terminologies themselves mere approximation of the glory of truth) ever since I first wrote poetry 7 or 8 years ago. Sometime it might be interesting to post a few of those pieces, though I think they are quite unpolished.
Expounding the intricacy of reality using paradox and absurdity is an approach more associated with eastern philosophy, but is actually present in the esoteric (inner/mystical) heart of all world religions and philosophies. The upside is the use of this tool can pull us closer to What Is as the mind implodes, the downside, of course, is confusing the hell out of people. Thanks for the comment @mineopoly and have a great weekend :-)
Thank you for kicking English in the ass @d-pend,
Language like nature itself cannot comprehendably (not a real word) exist without the the opposite counterpart.
Formless
Empty
Dark
...is a dimension waiting for shape, fulfillment and light.
no shrub
no plant
no water
... is a world waiting for a gardener (Ticuum Ullum)
Now I have to get back to my garden. You have produced a wonderful repertoire on Steemit. I will drop in every once and a while and enjoy the light.