If life is not poetry, then what is it?

If life is not poetry,
Then what is it?
What is the value of living time static,
If life does not move one to write a few lines,
Love, then what is the meaning of life?

If can I not open windows and doors
To let in the breeze and the glorious sunshine
Of a splendid November, so graceful,
Then what is the reason to claim life
As the Most Beautiful?

If life can I not make to be charged with most blessed intakes
Like the pictures painted by Blake in his 'Marriage', a poem,
Phrases kept where he like underlying content of heart,
Cleansing doors of perceptions to get closer to the Infinite,
What is the import of being a lively thing, then? An animate?



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