me, in a sonnet

Tremors in the nimbus, I don’t run–
Lessons held, I’m sure I will B shunned.
Ever to beach, with another potion.
Long time till sip next. Photographing
Whatever’s out there, trying to log all
My life. Too short. Too many darts, thorns pointed at us.

Is there any Zin left?
How about Zen? Any?

60 reasons to spend it all.
My record keeping, getting better.
But I’m only counting cons. Have to
Start setting more pros in my poetry,