You are standing on the door to the secrets.
You have it tightly packed beneath your shoe.
Ah, but never mind.
No one is likely to struggle against that barrier to answer you.
There is the entire trouble with the thing:
It is only a few pressed feet of dirt that keep the answers in.
And though you may stand here and question,
Those who know keep the knowledge with them.
It is not fair? Well, I know that it is not.
Yet we shall have to wait and struggle along
Never knowing if the play we are in is happy or sad.
Listening closely to night for words in a ghostly song
To tell if the reaping
Brings living or sleeping.
No comments:
Post a Comment