I carry ever close to meA gaudily printed metal boxLate property of my fatherAnd his father before himSecured unshrivenWithin the folds of a knapsackGifted from my closest friendWhose care I find unfathomable.Within its bent and battered walls I keep a precious list of secretsThat I may reference on occasionFor those who seem quite worthyTo own, without prejudiceA morsel of my mortal soul.
I do not leave these contents everWithin the scope of flighty feetVenture as I mightFrom place to placeCountry to countryContinent to continentSeeking that which to dateI have never found,Namely comfortSerenityConsiderationHuman to humanCreature for creature.Amidst the constructs of my mindThere is a steel wrapped doorGenerally kept slammed tightly shutTo fend away unwelcome visitorsUnwelcome thieves who steal the dreamsSo carefully chose for gilding thereTo oft display as stark reliefAgainst whatever gloomy backdropMight be projected thereFrom out of honest memory.
My list of secrets has innumerable spellsPowerful incantations new and ancientTo cure all manner of illnessDisease or heinous injuryEach and every fetid woundThat riddles this our unfortunate societyThat has departedSo completely and irrevocablyFrom any contractWith any recognizable God.