We Have to at Least Try It

Time gives us our hope time ends.
Time is what comes back to us,

Comes back for us, seems to end,
But then—night’s gone. Next day’s dawned—

Good old day, just like a day,
And good old night, just like night.

But time is not all of change.
Some change comes once and is gone.

On the far side of that change,
Time goes on, but not the same—

This is why we don’t trust time.
It can’t keep us safe from change.

What would it mean if there were
A real end—if, in the end,

We reached a wall, found the line
That change could not cross, not blur,

A stream that no change could ford,
A fixed creek that could not move

And could not be moved, could not
Hold a glimpse of a far shore?

Past that line there’d be no same
Thing—no bits of time come back,

No day or night, dark or light—
No rounds, no thing more than once,

No thing once at all—no time.
Well? Get in the boat. Let’s go.