No Exit Poem by RIC BASTASA

history teaches us
about the fears of having no exit

i believe it
that somehow there are no exits
but i work upon such premise

what i have now are simply
entrances

though i have no plans to stay
this long

yet i hold on to the assurances
of little permanences

everything passes away
i suppose

what the hell
where is the promised heaven?

i hold on to the grasp of my fingers
my only consolation

there is nobody here anyway
who says he had been there