SONNET V WOMAN

What art thou, woman, pleasure or distress

The question riseth from tormented souls
Who neither see through what thou may confess
Nor heal their hearts forever-aching holes.

Neither an angel nor a goddess be
For veils thy roaming spirit cannot wrap
Yet love him so that he alone may see
That love can fill any unwanted gap.

Together thus, loving and being loved
Thou shalt surpass lifes never-ending trips
As fate hath got in store for thou compelled
Togetherness and everlasting bliss.

Someone may trample thy poor wretched soul
Yet never shoudst thou let it become foul.