I Tried To Put Things In Perspective

There Is No Such Joy In The Tavern As Upon The Road Thereto.

The Nights Were Blinding Cold And Casket Black And The Long Reach Of The Morning Had A Terrible Silence To It.

By Day The Banished Sun Circles The Earth Like A Grieving Mother With A Lamp.

The Man Smiled At Him A Sly Smile. As If They Knew A Secret Between Them, These Two. Something Of Age And Youth And Their Claims And The Justice Of Those Claims. And Of Their Claims Upon Them. The World Past, The World To Come. Their Common Transciencies. Above All A Knowing Deep In The Bone That Beauty And Loss Are One.

Suppose You Were The Last One Left? Suppose You Did That To Yourself?