From birth until death we ply our trade
pulling anger and frustration to enslave,
save our fixation on the withering winters grave...
where we buried summer
and found our calloused hands warming on a fire
we spent hours forming in history’s funeral pyre.

If we could see above the suffering
and the internet buffering
if we could hold eternity in our hearts
and not let it get torn apart

we would see beyond the frogs well
and believe in heaven and not in hell