The Winter Sonnets Of Ebenezer Scrooge (Sonnet 50) Poem by Troy Cochran

Could I but shake my mind from sovereign night,
Awake from hateful day's soul-crushing weight,
And see with sleepless eyes made heaven-bright
Bare wings of thought unpaved by streets of slate:
What manner of measureless thought might I attain,
Bowing not to kiss the foot of pain?

But this body blankets me in needless suffering.
I am a fallen angel and I cannot wake:
I brood, I dream, I think in moods of utter ink,
Inebriate my smear of soul for pity's sake;
Reaching out for what I cannot be,
Too tightly cloaked in threads of being me.

I smell of earth, and drink a lidless pride
To douse a light from which I cannot hide.