This sonnet flowed together nicely, and ended up being one with interesting aspects, some of which I didn't anticipate at the beginning. It's only mildly erotic, too.
layers beneath layers
Unexpected wisdom can accrue from most unlikely sources -- we don't ask for it, but still it is received, both true and false and in between, beneath the mask that ev'ry person wears, because our lies compose what we believe. It takes the stark exposure of our body's need, the cries of bright delight within a gloaming dark to open full the unknown streams that we do not suspect exist below the deep crevasses, flowing to the broken scree that marks the end of ice. Then as we sleep, we learn again e'en as we dream, and hold those sparks like varves preserved in glacial cold.