He plays...

[Silas Thorne]

He plays the sonnet, held tight to his breast,
earnestly waiting, for those who know best.
There shakes the feather, held down on the ground:
'let me free, let me free!'
yet the thoughts had no sound.

Would that I could, eat a trick of the light
Then we would be all right
Then my thoughts would run free.

[Makai]

Silas I enjoyed reading this cryptic piece. On the surface it seems fairly straightforward. A message of an artist seeking approval. Yet the struggle you present, almost like flashes of light, gives this an interesting tension.

[Dark Muse]

This was quite interesting, though I am not sure I understand it, I enjoyed some of the imagery.

[Silas Thorne]

Dark Muse: Thanks. The images found me within the sounds of it, and were alive.
I don't think you need to strive for absolute understanding. If you can appreciate the language it's enough. Understanding can be rather personal.

Makai: Thank you for your careful reading. The rhyme and rhythm hit me and everything seemed to fall into place. I do feel a tension between the solid world around me and the reality of the imaginary world.