Sunday Sonnet: Eulogy

Extraordinary being, tender light
Of clemency by which my pen is writing,
Hand, blessed, that guides my path out of the night,
And heals this chest, and calms this spirit's fighting,
In you alone my Erato finds substance,
In you alone my heart, which is a crossway
For many pathways fading in the distance
Beholds a signpost to the ancient, lost way
Of earth’s redemption and sincerity’s tree.
Extraordinary being, light to which
I'm shadow, stream of mercy born of Lethe,
You are the note which can’t be squared in pitch,
The perfect form denied by Aristotle,
To me the polar star of all that’s gentle.