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By Jack Joseph Smith

A Way We are not permited to contest the cross when we stand on top of the world It is there our temptations must bow the furthest Down is up when lungs are thin with air patha On that climb Their still is a time When I will box a snake when it is standing up Now I' wring my arthritie hands Though Thay have not nails Through them yet No matter what they think And with my modern Mob Violence I Know Poncis Pilot

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

High altitude, thin air, temptation, the cross, boxing a snake, arthritic hands, and handwritten claims about modern mob violence and Poncis Pilot come together in a poem about strained endurance.

The page makes spirituality feel physically taxing. The typed ascent is interrupted by handwritten additions, so faith here is not calm elevation but a pressured field of corrections, defiance, and historical-religious accusation.

Claude

A Way. We are not permitted to contest the cross when we stand on top of the world. Down is up when lungs are thin with air. I'll box a snake when it is standing up. Wringing arthritic hands — they have not nails through them yet. No matter what they think.