far past the line

these are the final bounds of hate and fear
an ocean crossed and many armies fled
yet all one asked was space to earn some bread
a little water and some cleansing air
those who remain might wonder at the care
that had been given by those who were dead
to cast off the last memories of dread
and teach the forms of which we are aware
one tastes the fruit of the most ancient vine
and does not wait to see the next sun rise
in order to learn what will not be news
one must discern just what is not a sign
not let the meaning vanish from one's eyes
for once remembered there is naught to lose