What a burden a resurrection would be, what an end
To have to relive an end again, what a weight of prophecy.
What if the thing had not been well finished, what if
The return was to a grim condition again? If this is what salvation
Does for a population, it would seem kinder to leave them damned,
Said the disappointed and badly wounded man. Aimless wandering,
On the other hand, would become quite the temptation then. Resign
Oneself as one may, one feels there is always something to do in this world
Even when at the bottom lies the wonderland of extinction, leading on
To the nothing next. A lusting cricket rubbed his rasping legs together
For all he was worth by the highway in the ditch, strumming
Chords to accompany a confused human lyric one sunset in mid autumn.
Thus farre, sang the silent man, Time heard me patiently: then chafing said,
This man deludes: why keep me waiting at an opened doore?
He doth not crave lesse time, but more and (chorus) more and more.
