Tuesday Sonnet: The Barbarian Thought

So here I am: stuck in this Masters' course
Which only is a step in my career
(A path which, more and more these days, I fear
Will lead to nowhere, other than divorce
Of voice from speech around me). I'm sitting on
The terrace by the lake-side, taking notes
On Baudrillard - and that is when a thought
Of you invades and raids the cities of
My mind; and suddenly I realise just
How fragile the foundations of my evening
Are, and how it barely takes a gust
That wears your scent to raze them floors to ceiling.
The moment is a shock - the rest its dust,
Collecting back my reason and my feeling.