An Origin

Sorrow arms a thousand words As stones to slay the mild And aims the slings of sonnets Outside an inner wild My midnight inspiration Would habituate misdeeds, And gather thoughts by moonlight To convey what meaning bleeds But when sorrow tries to speak It will echo into noise For from a morning opus Ring the fanfare of my joys Through songs that would petition The standards of my mind To offer some expression Of this poet's verse and rhyme