Journeying A Temporary Esoteric Plane
As true as it is
And so it be—
Yet
Though one
Of the number
Is no more
We remain perpendicular
To the teeming level plane;
Traveling parallel;
Seeking an enlightening quest:
Though the cold
Dark grave
Lies before us,
Its darkness holds no fear—
For ours is a journey of light;
Searching the word
Without wintering end
Nor demise of summering toils;
Knowing that substitution,
Like raindrops, is temporary.