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.