Exclusion
I suppose we can say, if nothing else will do,
that all things have a measure, some accounted span,
that limits make the the thing and keep its focus true,
that all things spread their being in just the ways they can.
Yet still it seems absurd, improper, even rude,
that we, so like strange gods, with reason hold full sway,
yet like some sword-kept Eden, the world dares exclude
such as us from endless life, imposing a final day.
We stamp our feet, demand the Manager give His time,
insist that we are deserving, our merit known to all,
weep at the unfairness, in anger scream and rant,
and are firmly turned away, no matter how sublime.
We feel, deep inside, that immortal regions call,
but no matter -- when it comes to evading death, we can't.
The Tie
The sun through the blinds
on the houseplants streaks lines
which then tickle the eyes;
through glass and in part
ray pours from sun's heart,
between star and my soul forming tie.
