They say God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.

Dreams are the subtle Dower
That make us rich an Hour
Then fling us poor
Out of the purple door.

Hope it strange invention --
A Patent of the Heart --
In unremitting action
Yet never wearing out.

Unto a broken heart
No other one may go
Without the high prerogative
Itself hath suffered too.

I took one Draught of Life --
I'll tell you what I paid --
Precisely an existence --
The market price, they said.