Sonnet To The Heavenly Bodies Poem by Lorenzo Lynn

In rhythmic motion they become defined
as if in spatial harmony; they run
in sycopation, arms and legs aligned
in place, unmoved until their tasks are done.

Their limbs reach forth, each slicing through the air,
light eddies curling in their phantom flow,
sweat beading, porous flesh, on muscles bare,
rebuilding strength as long as they can go.

Such beauty lives in each not so in form
as much in thought and such unspoken way
that makes what we are fit no perfect norm
but lives in us by what we do and say.

Look out for what in us imperfectly
portrays not what we are but what may be.