A Sonnet About a Place

Twas content in a ruminating mind, 

though otherness sensed, a separation  

dissonant but welcome to push my kind 

to lurk the hidden gate to my nation. 

The familiars, such like me curate   

what festers inside, confronting the flow 

is right. We gaze with new eyes and mutate, 

for not like me does my reflection show.

Angel flight below the surface entomb 

thought. Breaking the tension to what is not 

real. Yet apparating betwixt a room 

dear. Surely the unnatural forgives caught. 

Not far behind will yearn the world once known,  

To unknown beasts that shall be overthrown.