xii.
That would be the end of it then. No one
Embraces their misfortune, complacent
In their admission that what's done is done,
And but for the few odds and ends, vacant
And abandoned. Life's a river, and this
Deep, remorseless current asks only of
Us that we ever continue on its
Clumsy course, riding unsteady above
The rocky depths, and cede to it that we
Are absurd, and easily deluded.
I ask too much sometimes, and can now see
How strange to think that also included
You. How do I explain this man I've been,
Or unclose my eyes or undream this dream.
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