funny poem

at dawn, he said
city that is not a city
who is the runner in the skies
do you hear the rain?
noises that strive to tear
i expect you
eighty years have passed, and more
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
i saw the first pear
splendid and terrible your love
the agony of having too much power
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
this is the ship of pearl
to be able to see every side of every question