by Pavel Chichikov
When I was sick I thought about heaven
But when I was well of various things
Life after death is not for the living
Midnight has nothing to do with eleven
Narrower, narrower grow in the walls
And yet they seem wider when nothing is wrong
Starlight is dim and daylight is strong
Horses of morning dash from their stalls
Narrower, narrower fences grow in
And yet far ahead is a place of delight
Nothing is blinder than blindness of sight
Small is the eye and great is the sun
Time and again, time and again
Handfuls of seconds and pockets of hours
Silver of idleness, gold of desires
Poor is the pauper with nothing to spend
Who will fill up my pockets with seconds
Who will deliver me seasons in plenty
All of the labor my lifetime will carry
All of the life where life never ends
Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may also visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.
