Eye of Zaphkiel
a Petrarchan sonnet
I see roaming daemons, across the lush fields.
Their hooves pounding my heart, heat
boiling my sweat. Attached to their feet
are the chains broken free from. Shield
your frail human eyes, the third eye yields
to the navigation and the heart beats
at the rate of immortal escapes. Eyes meet,
look into each other, then a call, shrilled
high pitched from far back, stalking,
it’s fearsome even to these fiends
and soon a host of seraphim, swords
burning, and chains glowing
catch onto the escaping, and bind
their sins to ground, and everything, back in accord.