The Clouds Be Spies Poem by Patti Masterman

The clouds be spies that hover the world of men:
For they own the sky, it's whole covering is them
And it all rains down, becomes gloom and woe;
Heaven pours doom out on the lives below.

If immortality would be your end
Arrange your limbs like the galaxies wind
Place your body: a universe to be
On bare earth, for immortality.

(And now my days be numbered too
For I've given the last, most secret to you.)
But you won't read this as words of reason
Unless overcome the body's own treason.