Infinite Verse

There must be a near infinite number of lines

Lines of words, lines of language

Strewn on minds and papers and air

Composed in the heads and hearts

Of every man and every woman

Who ever lived to think of verse.

So let each line find its place in one verse

Let each word sting on for centuries

String on past the Milky Way

On to where words become immortal

If there was such a place for such a thing

As the immortality of language.

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