After All is Said and Done

What will I do when at the end of time

The story folds back on itself and calls

On me to follow down those darkened halls

Of memory to revisit sublime

Past lives in fact and fiction ’til I’ve turned

Empty as much as is the hourglass

And all the strange bygones that had to pass

Before this book called History was burned?

What will this end extend to me, my kin,

my life and loves and all the world abroad?

Whether it’s silence of the touch of God,

Salvation of a sort will bathe my skin,

And on that gleaming day I’ll wake anew

Because I loved, and I was loved by, you.