Sonnet #182

Play child’s games and win child’s prizes
What is the prize for a life lived well?
Immortality in some aether above the hell?
A brand of identity that is mostly not lies?
If we are to live this life together let us not
Pretend we have to hurt each other, or push
We don’t have to stand above the rush
Or flow into the kneel of prayer and thought
Imagine what the God would do if here
Imagine life is more than one life
Imagine all known is a seashell by a pier
Us all deep inside it, all known is the knife
That cuts us free, forces of water, near
Forces of sun, sand grinding on the shell
And we have no sure way to dig out of this well
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