The End
What they had done could never be undone.
Resentful, fearful, they divided blame
between them, although neither cared to claim
a share. Behind them, to the West, the sun
stood fiery guard. Now they were enemies,
the woman and the man, but anyhow
not strangers -- and that gave them comfort, now
that Love no longer walked among the trees.
They couldn't turn around, there was no path.
For Love had cast them out to die -- a word
they didn't understand when they first heard
it said before. But now, scorched by Love's wrath,
scorched by the sun between its flaming wings
of cloud, they fled to face the end of things.
What they had done could never be undone.
Resentful, fearful, they divided blame
between them, although neither cared to claim
a share. Behind them, to the West, the sun
stood fiery guard. Now they were enemies,
the woman and the man, but anyhow
not strangers -- and that gave them comfort, now
that Love no longer walked among the trees.
They couldn't turn around, there was no path.
For Love had cast them out to die -- a word
they didn't understand when they first heard
it said before. But now, scorched by Love's wrath,
scorched by the sun between its flaming wings
of cloud, they fled to face the end of things.
December 4, 1977
