Heroic Crown Sonnet: Blazon of Hope By Sarah B. Royal

O poet, whose quill inks the reader’s grace,
In bloom of words, you craft unspoken air,
Where life and death entwine, a tender trace,
Of hope that stirs, like songs in twilight’s prayer.

Through death’s pale shroud, you call the soul to sing,
A shell upon the shore where voices dwell,
and bagpipes play beneath the fair bird’s wing,
of far-off lands where endless stories tell

of wise men searching in twilight’s last glow,
Nocturnes sing hopeful, making our hopes new,
As prayers by porch light—gray—in shadows grow,
A hopeful tale spun only by the few.

Yet through the storm, your words will never cease,
In hope’s embrace, find peace, and sweet release.

---

In hope’s embrace, find peace, and sweet release,
Where truths unfold in secrets lost in night.
Through paradox, the soul finds its increase,
In nothing’s grasp, the mind fails to find sight.

Yet absence of a thing may still impart
A meaning that the world does not perceive,
For in the void, the essence of the heart
Is shaped by what the senses can’t believe.

To seek is to be lost, yet still to find,
For error’s course may lead to greater grace.
In seeking something, all things are combined,
And truth reveals itself in empty space.

So let the world, with all its falsehoods, be;
with hopeful hands, I seek infinity.

---

With hopeful hands, I seek infinity.
I drift within a script I cannot read.
The absent sun still casts its purity,
to show the hand that plants each unseen seed.

I push, resist, yet only shift the tide,
Compelled by what compels my own desire.
A mirrored will moves just as I decide,
Yet strings unseen still pull me ever higher.

I know not who I am, nor what is true,
For I am wrapped within my own disguise.
Too deep within, I lack an outward view,
A stranger caught behind familiar eyes.

An unknown voice speaks words I do not own,
Even through word, my soul remains unknown.

---

Even through word, my soul remains unknown,
A fleeting thing lost in an endless dream.
The world reflects what thought has falsely shown,
Yet truth hides deeper than the mirror’s gleam.

I grasp at meaning, yet it slips away,
For every shape is but a writ’ in guise.
The mind distorts the light of honest day,
And blinds itself with knowledge in disguise.

A word is but a darkness cast in sound,
A sign that points yet never shows the way.
What’s thought as firm is never truly found,
For knowing fades like mist at break of day.

I only know the world is false, yet still
The truth beyond my reach and will, I chase.

---

The truth beyond my reach and will, I chase
like a written word, though in silence—deep.
The past stands fixed, an unchangeable, a waste,
that watches dawn from time’s unshapen keep.

The sun’s bright face, to me, is but a glow
That flickers from a fire long burned away.
What once was Possible, I used to know,
A ghostly ember of an older day.

Beyond creation’s breath, I held my sight,
Where meaning wakes but never shows its source.
A laughter hopeful from the birth of light,
Yet none recall its first, unspoken course.

Thus, all that is remains a fleeting trace,
A forgotten thought in vast empty space.

---

A forgotten thought in vast empty space,
as time outpaces all I seek to find.
Faith writes my steps, It grants not fleeting grace,
though distant darkness lost within my mind.

What once was near is now too far to see,
the voice is fading, though God calls my name.
The future looms where present ought to be,
Yet when it comes, it never stays the same.

Time flows like waves that never touch the shore,
A ruler firm, yet void of form or face.
No shattered sun can buy a moment more,
No careful date can halt its endless pace.

Thus time will bear me, certain in its tread,
To where unknowing ceases—I am Lead.

---

To where unknowing ceases—I am Lead,
though darkness speaks of light it cannot see,
The sea’s white kiss, the sky’s vast form o’erspread,
for clouds do veil all hope that seems to be.

We judge by absence, yet it’s presence’ touch,
For what is lost still shapes the world we know;
In darkness, light reveals itself as much,
And from the void, new truths and thoughts will grow.

We call it evil, but it is not so,
For even absence speaks of presence bright;
The withdrawn cause, through distance, still will show
Its form, though veiled in deep, unfathomed night.

Thus in this paradox, we come to see:
In absence, presence lives, with hope to be.

---

In absence, presence lives, with hope to be—
I wander lost in visions half-untold.
amongst stars before light is seen by me,
Seems but a mask on something dark and cold.

Can this be real—this world of space and form,
This hopeless vastness wrapped in fleeting glow?
Or is it but illusion’s shifting storm,
A wordless veil that shrouds what lies below?

If waking life is but a hope confined,
A hollow play where truth remains unseen,
Then let me turn within my restless mind
And seek my solace where my thoughts have been.

For hopes may hold the bitter, cursed unknown,
Yet sweeter far than lies the world has shown.

---

Yet sweeter far than lies the world has shown,
My heart remains unsatisfied, it seeks.
In endless hours, solitude, all alone,
Where yearning grows, but satisfaction breaks—

the will to act—has been denied to me,
And even renunciation fades away.
I chase my hopes, yet still they cannot be—
As fleeting as the night before the day.

This motion of life wears down my spirit’s core,
A cycle endless, draining what I feel.
In empty hours, I long for something more,
A change, a shift, a truth that might be real.

For even hopes, though sweet, are worn and cracked,
Twice removed from what I sought yet never lacked.

---

Twice removed from what I sought yet never lacked,
I stand in doubt, where truth remains unseen.
The world, a falsehood clothed in what’s intact,
A fleeting hopeful where I’ve never been.

Yet in this aching, there’s a quiet grace,
A hope that blooms despite its fragile form,
Like rainbows forming in no earthly place,
A moment’s peace amid the coming storm.

For pain is real, but still a sign of life,
A sense of what should not be felt, yet true.
And though the world’s a life of endless strife,
Hope speaks of shelter, old yet made anew.

In time’s sharp hands, we reach for something shown,
A reason found beyond the pain we’ve known.

---

A reason found beyond the pain we’ve known.
I stand as one who’s older than the sky,
A timeless self, yet still I yearn and moan,
for lands I once hoped for, I can’t deny.

Through dimmed reflections, I recall no shape,
No color, no true form of what was mine,
Yet in my heart, that longing does escape,
A distant word, writ’ as hopes’ design.

The world around me seems as if it’s lost,
A barren place where faith cannot be seen,
But still, I reach for truth, despite the cost,
And grasp for hope, though veiled and yet unseen.

For though the past is distant, undefined,
In hope alone, the truth I seek. I find.

---

In hope alone, the truth I seek I find,
Before my senses grasp what lies ahead.
I hear no sound, yet feel it in my mind,
And see the unseen, though I’m still misled.

Part Soul, part self, I touch what I can’t feel,
A world both near and far, yet always strange.
I err and call it mine, though none reveal
The meaning lost within the shifting change.

These thoughts, like messengers, appear to speak,
Then vanish like my hope before it’s known.
I chase the meaning, though it seems so weak,
A cipher’s code, still locked and all alone.

Yet in this quest, I find the search remains,
For truth exists in hope, despite its chains.

---

For truth exists in hope, despite its chains,
Though I may seek, and yet may find no end.
In something sought, a meaning still remains,
For through the lack, new truths may yet transcend.

The world may hide its meaning from my view,
Yet in the void, the thought takes root and grows.
What seems as naught holds something deep and true,
And through the emptiness, a light still shows.

To seek, to err, and to be lost within,
Is not to fail, but find what can’t be known.
For in the void, the seed of truth does spin,
And in the silence, something still has grown.

Though this world may seem only fleeting pains,
In seeking grace, find hope—the truest gains.

---

In seeking grace find hope—the truest gains,
Yet still I bear the judgment others cast.
though faith, not marked, has wrought these broken chains,
yet they mistake my will with sins of past.

Unlike the ones whom faith has sealed apart,
I walk within the world, I’m deeply scarred,
Flaws are seen as signs of straying heart,
And every misstep is a cruel regard.

I wonder now if all my striving’s vain,
though faith alone has written every part.
The weight of sadness, growing like a chain,
Makes me question if I’ve missed the start.

In seeking grace, I may yet find my way,
For truth is bound in hope, despite the gray.

---

O poet, whose quill writ’s the reader’s grace,
In hope’s embrace, find peace, and sweet release,
A forgotten thought in vast empty space.
Even through word, my soul remains unknown.

In absence, presence lives, with hope to be
The truth beyond my reach and will, I chase,
with hopeful hands, I seek infinity,
To where unknowing ceases—I am Lead.

Yet sweeter far than lies the world has shown.
Twice removed from what I sought yet never lacked.
A reason found beyond the pain we’ve known.
In hope alone, the truth I seek. I find.

For truth exists in hope, despite its chains.
In seeking grace, find hope—the truest gains.