The Mansion
There's no end,
There's no glory,
There's a slow resounding story.
There's no place to feel certain,
There's nobody waiting for me.
There's no stand of trees,
No morning,
There's a curve without a warning.
There's a weird and lasting sadness,
There's no large or lengthy warming.
There's no heat,
There's no expansion.
There's no door into the mansion.
Lengthy warming.
Sweet removal,
Sweet expanse,
Sweetly substantial.
There's no flesh,
There's no fingers,
In my head, I see a tunnel.
We built the walls tall and solid,
Between the treasure and the shovel.
I see in.
I see a fountain,
There's a trail over the mountain.
There's no wayside, there's no stopping
And the peak is wide and rocky.
There's no ceiling in the mansion.
No waste, no hesitation.
There's no crack of dawn,
No morning,
Just an everlasting warming
