Many times before me,
have I been told, in youth, of sea
to shining sea,
that does not wane.

Eons before humanity,
the whisking
of the waves,
showed benevolence.

But these times of peace have left us,
and close together we must remain,
Soon the world will End,
though a hollow and 1-tracked,
dead-ended train.

But those times have yet to come,
and remain as stationary as power,
One must come and go,
and one weary of the next,
as is a tower.

But in all three times, there are some questions,
What in the Past, will you have for me?
What is this unheard glory that I might see?

Do ye have mercy?
Do ye have love?

Will I be spared?
Will I be loved?

Though these fears run through us,
we cannot seek to hide,
the demeaning awe within us,
as we shall surely die.

And though comfort exists,
in forms of Heaven and Hell,
truth lies not in wording,
nor in deceit, or tricking spells,
For I must see,
with mine own eyes,
what lies beyond me,
past the skies,

and I must feel
when Earth has left,
and all is light,
as lover's breath,

and I must taste
the pure rivers clean,
that run down with haste,
wise, white, and keen,

and I must hear
the non-clustering sounds of Earth,
I must be free,
of human ear's worth,

and I must smell
no longer the air
that lives down their
that is known as hell

and I must pursue
still, my dreams, through death
and seek perfection
of immortality; Death.

So then, God.
What, Oh What, Will You Have For Me?