A Grave Poem by Kevin Maroney

Clouds of water so transparent
Something in them, yet not apparent,
Apostate of the neverending
Leveled state of non-ascending

Yet learner still, a master of
something weirder underdug.
A grave for all the world's treasures
A skull so deep as books fettered.

The chains cut hard, they run so rough
Yet so long hath been felt, never tough
Nerves die and in their place
Come lovely ones knotted in lace.

When the bird falls quickly and doesn't die,
What means it then to be alive?