Sonnet #182

Play child's games and win child's prizes

What is the prize for a life lived well?

Immortality in some aether above the hell?

A brand of identity that is mostly not lies?

If we are to live this life together let us not

Pretend we have to hurt each other, or push

We don't have to stand above the rush

Or flow into the kneel of prayer and thought

Imagine what the God would do if here

Imagine life is more than one life

Imagine all known is a seashell by a pier

Us all deep inside it, all known is the knife

That cuts us free, forces of water, near

Forces of sun, sand grinding on the shell

And we have no sure way to dig out of this well