Fictional time unravels out of dust
And sifts through wind and rain and hail and fear;
Those that whose life is taut with pain unjust,
We come to understand the price is dear.
In sweeping cobwebs lined with aged skin,
We fold away a life so true to love;
And inch toward a time we can’t begin,
Our hearts weep gentle tears; white feathered dove.
In loneliness we walk our final breath
Towards a golden shrine of emptiness;
Unshackled chains drop harshly to a death
And creeps into the veins of heartlessness.
For once the sign of life comes to an end
The rhythmic pulse of soulful love descends.
This sonnet is based on the idea of mortality and has been written in iambic pentameter, 5 metrical feet, 10syllables, 14 lines with a rhyming couplet at the end. The 4 line stanzas are referred to as a quatrain.