Yonder in time a boatman wait
Behind the misty white death his bait
carrying souls to an unknown land
his path same in journeys uncounted sand

the early morn mist clears to light
rowing close his passenger in sight
he checks the list of destiny for the name
yells to the shore to confirm the same

mortal soul to immortal land
the boatman row with steady hand
A distant melody the boatman sing
A gentle ride sailed with feathery wing

Time swift to the unknown land
The passenger be welcomed by angels hand
What hath thou have to pay the fare
Seek the boatman his journeys share

The mortal look towards the angels hand
What hath i got in immortal land
pointed the angel to a box of gold
Tis your treasure in heaven unsold

Yonder lay in the box of gold
deeds of the passenger in earth to hold
deeds of love and deeds of care
memories of past ever to share

Time stood its ground the passenger thought
He said to the boatman thou shall have all i got
why doth you give all the angel sought
To those on earth I owe in deeds and thoughts

A fare to pay for those who cant
To heavens abode the ride they want
leaving forth the pains and sorrow behind
leaving with sweet memories to the loved and kind

Stop reading, I tell you;
there is no resolution coming.
Only laments and curiosities,
incursions into the soulless depths of mesonoxian thunder,
maybe a note on the desirability of warm socks,
but no satisfaction.  

Don't expect a mournful awakening,
nor deliberate (or otherwise) profundity.
-disregarding the note on warm socks, of course-

I have given you warning, and if you continue,
the burden of  exploration falls on you,
for consideration is the ferry to insight,
of which this text is built strictly without.

The boatman may ask that you pay with your wisdom
and refuse those that have no treasures to offer.
Would that not be the most desirable life?
Where we live to learn and when we have,
the boatman ferries us into the undying waters?

And those refused must wander and wonder
why they were excluded, where wisdom is birthed,
realizing that they are exactly as intelligent as they work to become,
to which the boatman might say, "Welcome aboard.  Tell me more."

Allegorically speaking, this notion is nonsense.
Metaphorically speaking, completely absurd.
Practically, it's practically insane,
though actively, it is inanely preferred.

Alternative to apathy and pageantry,
wherein the boatman has empathy for those without wealth.
There is no true truth, only real observation,
so stop trusting my judgment and go create it yourself