Somewhere there’s a priest named Prester John
The answer to our prayers, our champion,
Though we know what heaven we require
It isn’t found on Earth, but somewhat higher –
He can pull it down and anchor it,
A giant air balloon, and there it sits
In a week or month it is forgotten,
The ropes are frayed, the envelope is rotten,
Heaven down to Earth is not a palace,
Sand comes through the stitches in the ballast –
Prester John has run away somewhere
And what of heaven – who let out the air?
Shabby is the heaven brought to Earth,
And what’s a heaven made in heaven worth?
September 13, 2011