I feel trapped by my poetry.
Shouldn’t a poem be
a portal to eternity?
Shouldn’t a poem be
a portal to eternity?
Eternity’s no trap, agree?
I guess we’ll have to wait and see,
but I won’t need to write poetry
I guess we’ll have to wait and see,
but I won’t need to write poetry
anymore when I’m up in Glory,
right?—weary
no more, because the Eternity
right?—weary
no more, because the Eternity
Man came and set me free
to climb the cherry tree
or chop it down—there’s poetry
to climb the cherry tree
or chop it down—there’s poetry
for you! I’ll probably
leap with alacrity,
happy at last in the lap of eternity
master of the mystery.leap with alacrity,
happy at last in the lap of eternity
Here I lie where I longed to be,
writing poetry
in my dear little walk-up in eternity.
