Casements of each of these brightsome days
Neverendingly retract
For what face-hangs, love-ripened from out
Sours not throughtout its act.

Of woman's wisdom, inscrutable
In its instinct-applied
Grasping of heart matters, if matters
Deep as those soul-quarried
School aged, was I struck first by it.
When in one's eye stood out
Blind to, in myself as some uncut
Gemmed find to shout about.

Climbing the heights of Imagination
With that great longing need to
Seek out purer reality.
Does it exist? If not, from where descends
Which inner compulsion feels
Like homesickness, heavenly?

Our life is not lived once
But many times over
In the memory.
Perusal of which read
Calendar-flipped tells each
Stage of a story.

Earth and Heaven comprise one life
Adjoining rooms Eternity occupy.
With no partition to speak of;
No interim suggesting we die.