looking backward

at end of journey no place left to flee
but still we crave what lies beyond the reef
not knowing yet all of the modes of grief
each tacks their name upon the waiting tree
you tell us simply wait and let time be
leave urgency and haste to the old thief
too soon we'll mourn each swiftly falling leaf
and far too soon will curse the hateful sea
right now the sun fills the whole world with gold
there seems no barrier to clearest truth
all of our senses proclaim highest noon
no one will speak of days both dark and cold
or tell us all the sournesses of ruth
but now we want to hide in a cocoon