The Odyssey,
          creating futures
                    real, imagined, or both,   
                    scribbling fear and
          victory in our
long, longer  

inarticulate sleep.           
          Out, out brief candle!                        
                    We poor players strut  
                    and fret for hours           
           on the stage
to claim our wage  

in the afterlife            
           where Virgil’s blind                       
                     but God is kind