The Cosmos Poem by james watkin

One of how many doorways
Unto whose worldly roomage
Our time to be born, offered?
To go search in, youth to age?

Apart from being sure-handed
Of what respect, commanding
To push ope, prevail on, who
Must have there shuddered, standing!

Receive again, commissionaire
Of this, a hotel most grand;
Angel in uniform, one's prayed
Life-exiting will demand!

Led back up which halled passage
Starry-whirled is said to be;
As whose presence, His beyond
Does sunny flood a lobby.