O, Make Me A Map

Sonnet O, make me a map that shows where virtue lies And draw me a chart of the unknown path to heaven.

Tell me ghost stories of how immortals die Or hand me the strange coordinates of evening.

Give me the compass that points away from horror Or show me how delicate mind remakes the brain.

Let me now drink of the antidote to terror And I will put on a joyous face again.

After all things are known to my all­believing, After the wondrous battles waged in my heart, After this fleeting world of somehow seeming, I shall be able to take my stand apart.

Apart from the wars or the endlessness of nothing, In the high skill and the ecstasy of art.

Carl Estrin