Poem-A-Day: Day 321

Sonnet #61 (Collapsing)

A satellite orbits descending arcs
until the descent permanently marks
some odd crater of statement’s remarks
and leads to remarkable respite.
Strange beasts call for god and savior
but lack nothing but behavior
that ends in misbehavior
but no real aim to commit.
And though we’ve falling out
from those whom have no doubt;
the depressed devout,
whose will can’t submit
leave nothing more
than cold adore.