A Cliff We Reach

The sky is but an endless sea Of chemicals and pleas. A man is but a buck’ling knee To sorrow and disease. The earth is but a tipping glass Awaiting hellish quake. A life is but a test to pass; A promise in a snake. A love is but a thoughtless dream To beckon greener things. A hate is but a bursting seam From which a trumpet sings. An end is but a cliff we reach Along our trails of sin. Such insufficient time to teach The children who begin.