The bottom is a funny thing.
The end of a dangling string.
The one you climb to rise again.
The one you’ll pass to fall, amen!
The rise and fall of the waves.
As they destroy, as they save.
Complicit water hitherto.
Not unlike the me and you.
If this breaks, if this all burns,
How will it be? What will we learn?
Can we become learn-ed before?
And be prepared for what’s in store?
I have great doubt that we can.
The future’s hard to understand.
Men are led to the slaughter.
By rising waves, as the water.
The waves will pass, water remains.
The race might lose, but can regain.
Regain what, and when, and why?
The best parts of what passed us by.
Cleansing that which brought us down.
And keep the rest of it around.
And from the end of that string.
We’ll climb back up to better things.
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