Has there ever been a light so bright or a shade so faithless? Has there ever been a blue so bruised and furtive? Spring itself shudders, wrapped in this silken ache, choking on this measure of smoke. The patchwork shadows of leaf and needle rest, sullen on the field of muddy surrender. The sad clock unwinds its busywork, never knowing the attention of deft fingers or tender mercies. The whole wide world gone away, replaced by so much buck and thunder. The whole wide world lost so long ago, only strangers left to keep the time.
It is a wonder of diminished portions, a bird here, a wing there. The steady relent of every appetite, all these aches lost crossing over. Tomorrow a mystery, today just the same, nothing to hold close save the bitter and the blue. The sun on my shoulder, the shadows pooling at my feet. The day sorts its business as it will. I find no reason, however bright the light or clear the sky. I find no reason, not even the reason to look for one. It isn't as if the new world is at a loss. The transition becomes translation, and the words all slip away.
There will be stars, sharp and distant beyond all cloud and roof. The sea still rollicks and charges far beyond the greening of these stony hills. There is music and there is laughter, all the comforts and perils of love and living everywhere one could look. So much of life tangled in the dreams of being that one you never were that it is gone when the awakening arrives. All these stories kept so close, saved for telling this one or that one. The things we see, the things we have done. The things we hope at, the things we fear without reason. Outlive it all with years still left plodding. Outlive it all, and see what you make of everything. An accounting and a calendar, a name and a face no-one remembers was yours.