Classic Poem

I am on leave of absence, I am allowed the sweet furlough,
Given by consent of life from one life to another,
Crossing all abysses of time and space to arrive on this recent globe

My ancestors sent me out of the world of their peace to plead their case with the present
I can go and stay: but I cannot go where they are not or stay where they are not.
They send me as their singer to tell their story of sacrifice,
They send me as their envoy from immortal nowheres visiting the secular earth.
I do not waste myself in the gayday of the spendthrift body:
I test each minute by the hour to which it belongs, and each hour by its year.
For a little while I try my feet on the curve of the earth:
I accustom myself to the strain and struggle of the fierce earthchild.
Soon I am to be off again to pass the gage along.

I look forward still to any number of worlds and ears yet to be absorbed:
I have brought that for you to examine which you cannot reject:
You may reject me, you may refuse the gift from my hands,
But the gift is yours before and after in all the incidents of birth and death
I shall take to the next and the next the same report in all the starry throng,
Playing lackey to no world's no, counting second to no out-going tide.

If I could step out of this scheme one step or one second what would become of the universe?
It would topple about my ears, wrecked on the shores of emptiness and nothing.
I am not free: I am only allowed my pay to spend as I choose.
The universe is all around me, I cannot get on its outside,
I on immortal parole.