The Mansion

There's no end, there's no glory

There's a slow resounding story

There's no place to feel certain

There's nobody waiting for me

There's no stand of trees, no morning

(There's no lamp, no sleepy hollow)

There's a curve without a warning

(There's no pack of dogs to follow)

There's a weird and lasting sadness

(Hot expanse, burning field)

There's no large and lengthy warming

There's no heat, there's no expansion

(There's no shield)

There's no door into the mansion

(There's no mask to wear)

Lengthy warming, sweet removal

Sweet expanse, sweet and substantial

There's no flesh, there's no fingers

In my hair; I see a tunnel

We built walls, tall and solid

Between the treasure and the shovel

I see an inn, I see a fountain

There's a trail over the mountain

There's no wayside, there's no stopping

And the peak is wide and rocky

There's no ceiling in the mansion

There's no waste, no hesitation

There's no crack of dawn, no morning

Just an everlasting warming