Consider a realm where this poem
is unread by mortal eyes
not one sentence witnessed here
finds its way to viewer’s grace

this happenstance of the muse
tossed like a bottle beyond the shore
without a purpose except to state
dictation meant for higher realms

taunting gods in surly jest
for the pains words can’t express
lines inscribed that disappear
perhaps they were never here

the whine with cheese in a poem
now at the end in reader’s eyes
with cheerful thanks even as
the void consumes words not meant to last.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190829.