On

      Beyond the paper moon
              and past the plastic stars
         Lurks a lump or troubled wisp
              of what we really are.
5        Behind the pantaloon, the canvas and the grease,
              beside the green stage door
         Lingers a loveable stranger
              whose tenor urges us to "more."
         Although the lights are out, are out
10            and the set's gone burning down
         Still we ache to traipse the stage
              and immortalize the clown.
         The grave is but a keyhole
              and we ourselves the key
15       That into clay or on to flame
              abide Eternity.

From the collection "The Sword Inside"

Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]

More information available on gregglory.com.