ON THE SUPREME COURT RULING AGAINST THE PROROGATION OF PARLIAMENT, two sonnets

Rain is impartial, it falls

On the client, the accuser,

And the bewigged court,

Without favour, without fervour;

The rain functions like law,

It delivers its decisions

On days of death, days of birth;

It touches the heavens, the earth,

The in-between citizen;

Unlike snow, love or hatred

It never thaws; it flows

Where learned minds have led…

It arises, in distant tumult,

Above mortal struggles of those

Who would play gods to ants;

To go below Machiavel faces,

Reading past their blank pages,

As a void, to where morals plant

Forests that build up parliaments,

The wood that grows strong vaults.

Rain is not passionate,

It is sane, measured, sober…

You can drink the rain

Unlike wine, and not go wild;

Though sometimes, supreme,

It makes people run in streets

In what is only apparent chaos,

To partially plan, partially dream.

24^th September, London, 2019

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E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

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