Every Last Embrace.

If I could tell you in a poem the way my feelings on everything have shaped themselves, it would be a song gently wafting along some march 17th, a slight brogue to it, thin and wispy like the new spring air. The lyrics would sound like crying, but the melody wouldn't. There is another place, an alternate reality that exists in my mind, and in that reality I'm by the church, waiting. You appear and there is nothing to fear, and nothing to hide. And sometimes I wish with everything that I have that it were so. But it's not. And what do you do with that, the pain and loneliness and desire of the reality you're left with? You put one foot in front of the other, and you keep going. Nothing for it but that.

We might as well lie down, love
Lie down and close our eyes
We might as well go walking
In the country of the blind
The long grass is grown
And all the birds flown
To their homes away in the blue
And nothing's left the same
The whole world is changed
Since you and I were true

And how can a story be ended
When it didn't hardly begin?
How can my glass be so empty
When it's filled up to the brim?
And it wasn't always so
It didn't always go
We had something better to do
And it didn't always rain
Every single day
When you and I were true

In a country where we are headed, love
There is nothing but rocks and stones
No friendly plant or animal
No angel to guide you home
Until some day you'll find
In the country of the blind
Some wonder just like you
And the singing of a bird
That nobody has heard
Since you and I were true

We might as well lie down, love
Lie down and close our eyes
We might as well go walking
In the country of the blind
The long grass is grown
And all the birds flown
To their homes away in the blue
And nothing's left the same
The whole world is changed
Since you and I were true