Dying Poets Poem by moon batchelder

Could be that dying poets pen
their souls more fervently because
the threshhold is so close. Enough
to view more universal laws

than govern realms of Space and Time.
Dimensions, heretofore unknown,
-whose whelm sublime awaits us all, -
they ken before the light has shone;

that leads unto here-afters broad!
The very nearness of suffice
to grant a moment's glimpse of God;
perhaps a taste of Paradise.