Note by note, word by word, ’till all was right,
he stood swaying on the deck. Plucking strings,
to hear them ring, he played a song of night.
Along the shore, they came all night, both kings,
and serfs alike. Death accepts all titles,
severs all allegiances ‘cept to Him,
who fashioned all, to Him who’s entitled
all praise and thanksgiving. Eversong’s hymns
rise o’er that sparkling metropolis.
Amethyst spires pierce the sky and dragons
circle, their jeweled wings flashing as they kiss
the clouds. Souls gape and stare, none are draggin’
their feet. He smiles, lowers the gangway.
“all aboard,” the angel mariner says.
The fourth sonnet in the crown of sonnets I am doing for this week’s Stomp Prompt: soul