Brief Case

Brief Case

In the beginning is a house

It starts with this and out

Inward and begins

It’s subtleness remains

A dark staircase

A stowed briefcase

It’s contents never named

I behold its structure

Its chasms full and wide

A thing is kept

Its world upswept

And to it this is pride

I fall because I can

And loneliness is man

If you dare breach

What wise men teach

Then steward your own hand

A dark staircase

A stowed briefcase

Its contents made of sand

And will confess

Under life’s distress

That future ness

Is moments plan

© 3/7/2004, William Grant Preston

Grant's Rants - Poetry