Thomas Davis
I sit upon the rocky lakeshore, waves
Long, curving lines that sweep and sing their music
Into the rhythms of my thoughts, their cryptic,
Moon-driven spirit a metaphor that graves
Itself into the thought that strikes me, raves
Unchecked into a day so wind-blown, gray,
It makes me wonder why the disarray
I feel inside seems dark, a chasmal cave.
Then, suddenly, I see the waves as souls
That sweep into a shore that no man sees,
And as they chant into the beach, the shoals
Of rocks become a shore of certainties,
An incantation on the shore, their canticle
Eternity, immersion mystical.
fourwindowspress 
This is the stuff of dreams! x
I really like the image of waves as souls that sweep onto shores that no man sees and the dark in this poem is mysterious and feels like some kind of home.
A beautifully rendered expression of this experience, Thomas, and “mystical” is the perfect word.
I feel that you have used the sonnet form exactly, Tom, the octet ruminating on a scene of beauty, the turn in precisely the right spirit as well as place, and the sestet taking us in a new – and hopeful – direction. With the iambic pentameter and the classical rhyme scheme, it is a perfect model of the form. Bravo you! (And I hope you, Ethel and all the family are well and enjoying the Fall), John
It is only as we proceed toward the secondhalf rgat things begin to fall into place but then they indeed do.
Beautiful, deep, and indeed mystical in that final “immersion”!