G is for Gilbert, The goat from Gowana, Who gambled his gold in Guyana and Ghana. A missionary swore to save his soul And make poor Gilbert’s fortunes whole. Night and day he preached at the goat, Read him the Bible over and over, Promised Gilbert a heaven of flowers and clover, ‘Til all his talking wore out his throat. Gilbert sighed, and inquired the odds Of a goat like himself ever meeting any gods, And offered to make the missionary a wager.
Finite In the end there is silence it opens to a forever that is beyond you and me-- it is not ours we spin and swirl with nowhere to gravitate the earth yawns with boredom it knows all too well the plight of humans.