In places deep and black

Beneath the surface of it all

The sun never rises

Either you climb out

Or you die in the dark.

Look,

There is the clear blue sky

And the miracle of perceiving it;

This wind,  those golden autumn leaves

And the green, fresh earth

Beneath it all

The nonsense of creation

In all its unlikely brilliance

Is for now, not later, not before

As am I,

As are you,

For when we’re gone

It will be as if we never were.